


Match My Pace

by TeddyKrueger



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambidextrous Kenma, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assistant Coach!Kuroo, Background IwaOi - Freeform, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Grad Student!Kuroo, M/M, Pining, Platonic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Some Kenhina Content, Soulmarks, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Streamer!Kenma, background arankita, background bokuaka - Freeform, sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24805411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyKrueger/pseuds/TeddyKrueger
Summary: Kuroo shifted closer to his back and wrapped an arm around his waist. What Kenma wouldn’t have given to flip around and bury himself in his chest. Would Kuroo pull him closer? Would his heart pound loud enough that Kenma wouldn’t have to press his ear to him to hear it? Maybe, just this once, he could be forgiven for taking the chance.He closed his eyes, begging for a different dream.A dream where his soulmate bond wasn’t platonic.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 80
Kudos: 208
Collections: Light-Time Stroll





	1. Lights and Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _gorgeous art_ in this first chapter was created by yankasmiles ([Twitter](https://twitter.com/yankasmiles))! Please _please_ go follow them! They were a delight to work with and did both Kenma and Kuroo justice.
> 
> In case you guys wanted a “theme song” to go along with this fic, I suggest this cover of the RADWIMPS song Futarigoto by Mafumafu ([which you can find here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8edGkHXxZI4))

Haruka swirled her spoon in her now foamless latte, the clinking of metal against porcelain mingling with the low chatter of the other café patrons. The rippling tail at the end of each swish mirrored a wake behind a motor-boat, the rutter sputtering its way to death.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is working.”

At a nearby table, a woman peered over, her perfectly lipsticked mouth forming a small “o”. Her newfound gossip made its way from ruby lips to pearl-studded ears. A new pair of eyes fell on Tetsurou, ones that were as pitying as they were amused.

He returned his attention to the woman before him and nodded. “Okay.”

“It’s just…” Haruka looked down at her lap where her hands fidgeted. “We don’t share soulmarks, so what’s the point?”

The words struck a chord within Tetsurou. Three muted and familiar notes. They weren’t discordant, but instead a bittersweetly harmonious accompaniment to his fourth failed relationship. Maybe if soulmarks weren’t visible manifestations on people’s wrists, he could continue listening to their previously euphoric symphony _a due_.

Her soft hiccups that were usually reserved for sappy romances and baby penguins tore at his heart. He held himself back from reaching out to grasp those strong, yet smooth hands. She sniffled intermittently, the sound reminiscent of when she humored his occasionally stupid jokes.

He dredged up the will to smile. Hopefully it was a comfort rather than an unwanted gesture. “I get it. You should find the person on the other end of your bond. They’ll give you everything you want and more; everything I can’t.”

“I wish that I could be more confident about you.”

“I know.”

She mumbled something, her face turned away so her voice and the words on her lips disappeared into the room.

“Sorry.” He leaned in. “I didn’t catch that.”

She sighed. “I just...I said that no matter what I do, I’ll never measure up to him, will I?”

Lipstick woman gasped, her body entirely turned in their direction. Tetsurou met her gaze. His friend Oikawa told him once that Tetsurou didn’t need to procure the ferality of a tomcat’s hiss to intimidate, but instead just his hardened glare. The speed at which the woman spun around and cowered into herself affirmed that.

“This isn’t about him,” he said through gritted teeth.

Haruka scoffed. “Whatever you say.”

She lifted her head to blink at the ceiling and cleared the queue of tears in her eyes. Once stemmed, her features solidified into a queenlike grace, as if it were impossible for her to reveal weakness in front of a mere man. She gave a small bow before she exited the shop. His eyes trailed her form. Her stride, which could grind lesser mortals to dust, would likely be the last piece of her he’d retain after the rest of his memory of her faded away.

He drew out his time in the café by deleting their messages and unfollowing her social media. Before he himself exited the shop, he nodded apologetically at the lipsticked woman. She nodded back, a blush rising on her cheeks.

Early afternoon on the weekend meant plenty of seats on the Yamanote Line. Usually Tetsurou would stare out the opposite window as the cityscape flew by, but he instead buried himself in his phone. He scrolled through pictures of Haruka and him shooting peace signs and too-wide grins at his mediocre phone camera.

He took care not to delete photos of himself and another person. This man was less inclined towards enthusiastic gestures and instead more inclined towards hiding his face behind the sleeve of a well-worn hoodie.

Three weeks previous, summer break had ended. Tetsurou traded mid-afternoon dates and endless volleyball practices for lab research and explaining acid-base neutralization to freshmen. Haruka claimed to understand, but only a week into the semester, her messages became more curt and less frequent. He could only expect a “Good night,” and maybe a “How was your day?” on occasion.

Not that he could judge. Effort had deteriorated on both ends. It just seemed more drastic coming from the woman who used to send a barrage of pictures of baby animals throughout the day.

During that time, they had only called three times. One of those times had been the day before today. Meaningless chatter had turned to drawn-out silence. Drawn-out silence was then replaced with Haruka’s icy accusations.

When she had messaged him to meet this morning, he confirmed immediately. He spent the few hours he had left getting ready as if for a formal event. Instead of the pleasant jitters preceding a wedding party, however, he had succumbed to funeral malaise. He prepared for the impossible, but expected the inevitable.

“The next station is Sugamo. Sugamo.”

Tetsurou stood to lean against the partition separating the train seats from the door. As the train’s clacking slowed, he steadied his own breathing in tandem.

Deep breath.

_It’s just…_

Hold.

_No matter what I do…_

Two.

_I’ll never match up to him…_

Three.

_will I?_

Exhale.

“It was never supposed to be a comparison, Haruka.”

  


* * *

  


The elderly crowds of Sugamo’s shopping streets only served to boost the lingering summer heat instead of allowing the oncoming autumn breeze to slice away the sun’s harshness. Tetsurou pulled his button-down away from his skin, the fabric sticking slightly, before opting for one of the side streets belonging to the aging residents of the tiny district.

“Afternoon, Kuroo-kun,” an elderly man greeted, a puff of smoke releasing upon his exhalation.

Tetsurou bowed. “Afternoon, Masaki-san. How’s Akane-san?”

“Oh, on first name terms with my wife, are we?”

Tetsurou smirked. “ _She_ doesn’t insist on calling me by my last name.”

“That’s because your parents gave you a good name and it’d be a shame not to use it.”

The aforementioned woman appeared behind her husband, wiping her hands on her light yellow apron. As if trailing behind her and subsequently advancing ahead, the syrupy sweetness of adzuki paste floated past Tetsurou’s nose. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He never did get a chance to eat this morning.

Akane-san chuckled. “Don’t worry. I packed up enough for you and Kenma to enjoy. Wouldn’t dream of letting you two starve.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Tetsurou said.

“Quit with the false modesty, boy,” Masaki-san grunted. “You’ve been around the neighborhood too long for that.”

Four years in Sugamo couldn’t begin to rival the decades some residents had spent in their homes, but according to Akane-san and Masaki-san, young people remaining in the neighborhood as long as he had was a feat impossible enough to designate him as an honorary old geezer.

“Oh, _you_ quit it, dear,” Akane-san chided Masaki-san. “You may not have any manners, but at least Tetsu’s mother brought him up correctly.”

Tetsurou winced.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Akane-san disappeared back into their apartment only to return with a plastic bag of still-warm jumangoku manju. He held the treats gingerly and bowed deeply, earning him a whap on the head.

A similar whap resounded after, this time on a less hair-protected scalp.

“Tell Kenma he can thank me for those by saying hi every once in a while,” she told Tetsurou, pointing a finger. “That boy leaves the house less than this old geezer here.”

Masaki-san rubbed the back of his head. “What d’ya think I’m doin’ now?”

“Wasting your day _right outside_ of the house.”

“I’m startin’ to see why he does it.”

Tetsurou smirked. “Still in love as always.”

Akane-san left a wet kiss on her husband’s cheek as he dramatically cringed away from her. “Always.”

Masaki-san waved Tetsurou off, his pale yellow soulmark reflecting the deepest truths of Akane-san’s hidden affections. Maybe someday Tetsurou could be like them, too. For now, he headed further up the street to return to his own soulmate.

  


* * *

  


The muted jingle of keys outside Kenma’s apartment door filtered through the whirring of the three fans he set to full blast. The knob turned. One thump. Two thumps. Three. The door swung open. Kenma looked up from his game just in time to watch as Kuroo stumbled forward and barely caught himself before he could plummet to the wooden floor.

“I’m home,” he greeted nonchalantly.

“Welcome back.”

When Kuroo straightened up, Kenma heard the crinkling of thin plastic. He whipped his head around to find Kuroo biting into a piece of manju and dramatically groaning.

“Are those…?”

Kuroo approached him and popped one into Kenma’s mouth. His face heated at the contact of Kuroo’s fingers with his lips, but became distracted soon after. The stickiness of the outer rice layer and the smoothness of the adzuki paste filling transported him back to the cramped manju shop back home in Saitama. Kuroo and him would take their allowances every week and share a few by the riverside.

Kuroo plucked another from the bag and collapsed on the couch only to lay across Kenma’s lap. His hair tickled against the lower half of the Final Fantasy phoenix summon tattoo adorning Kenma’s left side. Kenma silently chastised himself for not wearing a shirt. He couldn’t help it, though. The weather had gradually cooled since August ended, but for some reason all of the heat in the country chose to relocate itself in their 2LDK. 

As soon as Kuroo settled, he began poking the underside of Kenma’s chin. “Akane-san says to visit her once in a while. She misses you. The old man, too.”

“Stop it.” Kenma swatted at his hand. “I will.”

“Better make it soon or she might knock down our door.”

Kenma hummed in response as his mage blasted a river of ice at the towering cryptid on the screen. Its death throes roared through the TV speakers as it burst into purple light and disappeared. Just one more and he could get back to the main story. Based on the last arc, this should’ve been the last part before the endgame arc began.

“Where’d you go this morning?” he asked, absentmindedly, as he ran around speaking to each NPC twice to exhaust all of their dialogue options.

“I’ll give you one guess,” Kuroo replied, shaking his left wrist.

“Ah.”

Kenma didn’t have to undo the snaps of the covering on his own right wrist to confirm the gravity of Kuroo’s outing. Last night he had accidentally eavesdropped on Kuroo’s and Haruka’s conversation through Kuroo’s bedroom door. “ _Tell me what I should do to make this better,_ ” Kuroo had said. The words from last night were undoubtedly printed on Kenma’s wrist. Removing his wristband was best left to tomorrow, when those words would be replaced by something Kuroo said today. Hopefully they would be sentiments that were far less gut-wrenching.

 _She wasn’t right for you anyways,_ he thought.

Kuroo sat up and stretched. “Alright, well I’m gonna try to get some work done. Didn’t get a chance to grade this morning and I’m pretty sure Hanabusa-sensei is gonna kick my ass if we have to give back exam scores late.”

Kuroo made to leave, but Kenma threw his hand out behind himself.

“Bag.”

“Oh come on,” Kuroo whined.

“ _Bag._ ”

“You could go down yourself and get more, you know.”

Kenma glared.

“Okay, never mind.”

Kenma removed four pieces and waved Kuroo off. “Have fun.”

“I’m already in sheer ecstasy.”

Kenma threw himself back into his game. The tedious task of upgrading equipment allowed his thoughts to wander. The last time Kuroo had been broken up with, he had hidden away in his room for at least a week. It got to the point where Kenma broke his own habit of remaining in the apartment at all costs and he dragged him around Tokyo until their legs ached. After several such outings, Kuroo still drowned himself in his studies, but at least he left his door open for Kenma to check on him if needed.

Haruka had only lasted a few months; just long enough to justify becoming exclusive, but not long enough to deem her as anything serious by Kuroo’s standards. Still, the honeymoon period looked good on him, loathe as Kenma was to admit it. His smiles were a little wider and his eyes a little brighter when he had talked about her. No amount of twinging in his heart over Kuroo gushing over how cute her laugh was could allow him to tear her down. Not truly.

Maybe if Kenma decided to let Kuroo be privy to all of his inner chaos, there would be no Harukas. Yet he maintained his silence, burying himself in his work whenever his hopes slipped through the cracks in his barriers.

A dull thump and an elongated growl emanated from Kuroo’s room.

Kenma went to investigate. From Kuroo’s doorway, he spotted him at his desk with his head face down, haloed by several cans of Black Boss and a few uncapped pens. To the left of his head stood a short stack of papers, the topmost page adorned with a circled 85 in red ink. Cushioning his forehead was a larger stack, those ones unmarked as far as Kenma could tell.

“Kill me.”

“No.”

“We’re soulmates. Aren’t we supposed to be partners in crime or some shit?” 

“You’re asking me to commit murder without good reasoning.”

Kuroo turned his head to face him, his cheek squished against the pages. “So if I gave you good reasoning you would do it?”

Kenma smirked. “Probably not.”

Kuroo groaned again and his chair gave a squeak as he leaned backwards in it.

Kenma likely had a total of two or three hours left in his game’s current story arc. He could leave Kuroo to his dramatic devices and blow through it before dinnertime. Then he could get back to his dailies in _Monster Hunter World_. He could even finish recording footage of _Silent Hill 2_ for his throwback horror game series on YouTube. There were a _million_ different ways he could get ahead on his week.

“If you finish grading we can go play volleyball.”

Kuroo scooted his chair forward and grabbed both of Kenma’s wrists. “You’re an angel.”

He rolled his eyes. “Gross.”

After Kenma changed into a t-shirt and shorts, he busied himself with his Vita. Several minutes later, Kuroo burst out of his room, gym bag and volleyball in hand. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Let’s roll, kitty cat.”

  


* * *

  


_**3rd Grade**_

“Tetsu!” his father, Eijirou, called. “Let’s go!”

Tetsurou descended the stairs, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“Can’t we just do it tomorrow?” he asked.

Eijirou crouched before his son and smiled softly. “I know you’re not keen on all of this, but I think it might do you some good. Besides,” he brushed a piece of lint off Tetsurou’s shoulder, “the Kodzumes have a son your age. It might be nice to make a friend before you start school again.”

“Do I have to?”

Eijirou pinched his son’s ear lightly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, _but_ you never know. He might become your best friend, and you wouldn’t know it unless you met him for yourself.”

Tetsurou considered that for a moment.

“Okay.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The Kodzumes’ home wasn’t all that different from his grandparents’, at least externally. The plain white walls were surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges and short trees, and a stone pathway led to the back of the house. Eijirou rang the doorbell as Tetsurou concentrated his attention on the small painted flower pots just outside their door.

“Can I help you?” a woman with spotless white socks asked.

“Hello Kodzume-san.” Eijirou gave a small bow. “My son and I just moved in with my parents next door and we wanted to give our greetings.”

Eijirou placed a hand upon Tetsurou’s back and urged him into his own bow. Tetsurou complied, pressing his arms closer to his sides. 

“Nice to meet you,” he squeaked out.

“Oh! They informed me about that last week. Kenma! Come here, sweetheart!”

The drag of smaller feet made its way to where they all stood. Tetsurou expected equally white socks, but instead he was greeted with patterns of tiny calico cats stretching, napping, and playing. They stopped a few paces back from White Socks-san and Tetsurou chanced a look at the boy his father had told him about.

His dark hair fell in curtains to just below his chin, framing the pale face of someone who must’ve forgotten what it feels like to bask in the sun. His black hoodie and pajama shorts only served to emphasize how much he resembled a monochrome photograph come to life. The only signs of color aside from his socks were the golden eyes searching Tetsurou all over. He shuddered.

“Ah, this is my son Kenma,” White Socks-san said. “Kenma? Why don’t you take Tetsurou-kun up to your room? I’m sure you could find something or other to play together.”

Instead of responding, Kenma twisted around and proceeded upstairs.

Shinichirou and Akira had warned him that city kids were biased against country bumpkins like them. They didn’t bother with gathering fireflies into jars or tiptoeing through the woods to track camouflaged frogs through croaking alone. They only cared about depleting the health bars of raging monsters and how far away they traveled on their last vacation. Tetsurou had to sell his Playstation before the move, but it had been last-gen anyways, so no one would’ve been impressed in the least. As for the last trip he took, the weekend he’d spent in Kyoto was lost to memories only his four-year-old self could have retrieved.

“Are you coming?”

Kenma was stopped halfway up the stairs and staring past Tetsurou’s head and out the door. He looked over his shoulder for the mystery person Kenma spoke to, but since no one else was there, he pointed to himself and questioned the boy silently.

Kenma nodded, his hair falling further into his face. Tetsurou bit back a laugh. A small push from his father on the small of his back and a whisper of, “Go ahead,” had him following the other boy.

Tetsurou paused in Kenma’s doorway to survey the contents of his room. To his left stood a bookcase that almost touched the ceiling. Volumes of various shounen manga filled the shelves, each organized by publisher or last name. A couple of cat plushies, each a different color and pattern, sat on his dresser. On his bed, 8-bit tunes played from a handheld console, one Tetsurou had only ever seen in commercials.

What captured his attention most, however, was the TV stand. Two shelves worth of games filled the space as best as possible, but several had to be stacked haphazardly on top of it. Next to the TV, a Playstation 2 stood upright, confirming again that city kids had it all.

“I don’t have a lot of multiplayer games,” Kenma said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

Kuroo shook his head, prompting a twinge in his neck.

Game cases clacked together as Kenma sifted through them. He pulled two out and presented them.

“ _Street Fighter_ or _Tekken_?”

Tetsurou gestured to the one on the left.

“ _Street Fighter_ then.”

Kenma popped the disk into his console and Tetsurou settled on the floor as the power-up sound drifted from the speakers. Kenma handed him a controller and Tetsurou turned it over in his hands, running his thumb over the smooth surface.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Kenma said, for once meeting his eyes.

Tetsurou shrugged.

“That’s okay.” The springs of Kenma’s bed creaked under his weight. “Neither do I.”

  


* * *

  


Even after the school year began, Tetsurou continued to dedicate his free time one-on-one with Kenma.

At school, they planted themselves under green leaves, thin rays of light filtering through to the prickly grass. Each shared an earbud as they took turns bashing scaly monsters. No one waved to them or attempted to pull them out of their solitary bubble.

Upon returning to their street, they would bypass Tetsurou’s home without a second glance—no one would be home anyways—and charge upstairs to Kenma’s room. When they weren’t ruining their eyes and killing yet another enemy creature, they laid themselves out—Kenma on his bed and Tetsurou on the floor—and glanced between scribbled notes and half-completed worksheets.

April transitioned to May and their day-to-day life remained the same: school, games, Kenma’s, homework, games. Tetsurou didn’t complain or say much of anything really. He quietly acquiesced to the monotony, only sometimes aching at the sight of the abandoned volleyball in the dusty corner of his own room.

One day after several rounds of _Virtua Fighter_ , Tetsurou caught Kenma staring at him with pursed lips.

“Umm...we play this all the time,” he said. “Is there anything else you wanna play instead? We can do that.”

Tetsurou’s mind flashed to that cobwebbed corner.

After racing to and from home, he returned clutching a blue and yellow ball to his chest, an eager but tentative grin adorning his face. He teetered back and forth on his feet while Kenma’s features deteriorated into despair.

School, games, Kenma’s, homework, games…

Volleyball.

  


* * *

  


_**Present Day**_

Tetsurou stepped across the ragged edges where grass met dirt and dust. The rainy season had passed the month previous and snow wouldn’t make an appearance until January at the earliest, so the earth showed no signs of holes or excessive unevenness.

The net Tetsurou’s father hung up all those years ago drooped, the bright white faded to a dusty beige. Only one of the antennas remained. The other had snapped at the base the night a particularly nasty typhoon tumbled through the Kanto region. It never seemed to matter. No one kept score and no one called for fouls out on this court.

Elementary or middle school students—they all looked the same to Tetsurou now—raced alongside the riverbank. They whooped and giggled, barely glancing at the trespassing men on their sacred grounds. They must have been drawn to something beyond, something he couldn’t spot for himself. He busied himself with restringing the net, but Kenma’s hands stopped in place as he watched them disappear.

“You good?”

Kenma startled as if waking from a trance. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Tetsurou chuckled. “We _just_ got here.”

“Your point?”

“You have way too little energy.” Kuroo grabbed his ball and tossed it over.

“No,” Kenma grumbled, hugging it to his chest, “you just have too much.”

It didn’t matter how many years they’d been playing together. Kenma always found a way to voice his reservations with exercise. The idea of running around or doing strength training brought forth his “ick” face, one usually reserved for asparagus and FPS games. 

Yet, over the last 17 years, Kenma stuck by his side. Whenever Tetsurou asked him to set for him, Kenma grumbled an affirmation and they’d spend hours on the court. When Tetsurou had asked him to come with him to a local kids’ volleyball club because going somewhere alone filled him with dread, Kenma trailed behind. When they entered high school and Kenma had to choose between volleyball and going home, he chose the former.

Kenma positioned himself on the side nearest the unbroken antenna, watching Tetsurou for his cue.

He tossed.

Tetsurou bounded forward. One stride. Two strides. He launched, body arcing as if the heels of his shoes were meant to tap the back of his head.

_Smack._

“Again.”

Kenma obliged.

“Again!”

“I know.”

He couldn’t stop, neither his body nor his thoughts.

 _One more. More. No thinking. Focus on the ball. Nothing else matters. No one else matters. This day didn’t happen. It doesn’t hurt. It_ doesn’t _hurt._

Tetsurou’s lungs burned with each inhale. The last time he’d filled his water bottle was yesterday before practice and his morning latte didn’t do much in the hydration category. He embraced the sensation, letting it increase in severity as the sun rose higher in the sky, the range of its light stretching across all of Japan. Only when it found its way halfway to sunset did he reign himself in.

He squatted, his breaths coming ragged and shallow. A collapsed lung might not have been in his best interest, but he stayed crouched there. He dragged rough fingers through the dirt, tracing the soft shape of a cat—vaguely resembling a certain roommate—alongside tiny shoe prints.

Kenma’s dust-covered sneakers stood before him. He dangled a water bottle just above his head and he accepted it with a muttered thanks.

Along with each gulp, the twisted nature of his perceived idiocy flooded in. He wiped his mouth, attempting to stem the overflow. Even so, a droplet escaped and darkened the dirt below.

“Is it my fault?” Tetsurou murmured. “Again?”

Kenma flicked his forehead.

“Oww. Seriously?”

“Did she say it was your fault?”

_Didn’t have to._

“She might as well have.”

“But she didn’t.”

Tetsurou sighed. “No. She didn’t.”

Another flick. He leaned forward to swat at Kenma’s legs, but lost balance when Kenma sidestepped. Dust rose around him and covered his sweats. It invaded his nose and mouth, eliciting a coughing fit. When he finally washed enough of the taste out with water, he looked up only to be met with Kenma’s wide grin.

“Dick.”

“Asshole.”

Kenma reached out a hand. The late-afternoon sun shone through his blonde tips, bringing out the reddish undertones. Years after he impulsively bleached his entire head because of a teammate’s thoughtless comment, Oikawa told him he could’ve used purple shampoo and it wouldn’t have turned out so orange. Still, he never cut all of it off, instead only trimming it whenever his hair began to fall past his shoulders.

Tetsurou took his hand.

“One more?”

“You could just say you want to play for another hour.”

“Ah, but what would be the fun in _telling_ you when we’ll go home when I could just leave you in suspense?”

“Yeah,” Kenma agreed sarcastically. “Where would be the fun in that?”

Before they left, Kuroo nodded up the street in the direction of their childhood homes.

“You wanna go drop by your parents’ while you’re here?”

Kenma stared at the strands of grass twitching in the wind. “Maybe next time.”

Kuroo quirked an eyebrow, but ultimately shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

The further they got from their old homes, the more it nagged at Kuroo that they hadn’t gone together to see Kenma’s parents in almost five years.

  


* * *

  


Kenma launched out of bed, the flickers of his nightmare teasing at the forefront of his mind.

His father’s eyes. His words. His towering stance.

_“Why are you doing this to me?”_

Kenma found himself standing in front of Kuroo’s door. He brought his hand up to knock, but instead took a deep breath and turned the knob with a small click.

After all these years, Kuroo still slept with his pillows squeezed up against the sides of his head. At least Kenma had convinced him to stop sleeping face-down so he wouldn’t suffocate. His light snores drifted from his bed, his features placid.

Kenma slipped under the sheets, shifting as far to the edge as he could without falling off. He reached a hand forward towards Kuroo’s back like he’d done a million times in the past, but he stopped himself just as he had every time. No matter how much he yearned to grasp Kuroo’s shirt and fall asleep just like that, he chose not to risk waking him up. Instead, he turned over to the other side and closed his eyes.

The creaking of springs made them fly open again.

Kuroo groaned lightly, the sound raspy with sleep. “C’mere Haruka.”

 _If only I could be,_ Kenma thought.

“Unfortunately for you, it’s only me.”

“Oh,” Kuroo said, falling back against his pillow. “You okay?”

Kenma gripped the sheets. “Ask me tomorrow.”

Kuroo shifted closer to his back and wrapped an arm around his waist. What Kenma wouldn’t have given to flip around and bury himself in his chest. Would Kuroo pull him closer? Would his heart pound loud enough that Kenma wouldn’t have to press his ear to him to hear it? Maybe, just this once, he could be forgiven for taking the chance.

He closed his eyes, begging for a different dream.

A dream where his soulmate bond wasn’t platonic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! I just wanted to say thank you so much for reading the beginning of this fic. This is the first new multichapter piece I’ve written in about two years which is insane. I’m ecstatic to return to the soulmate universe I initially developed for the _Voltron_ fandom; it will always have a special place in my heart. The love and support I received back then inspired me to place Kuroo and Kenma in the same universe.
> 
> I only just joined the Haikyuu fandom in the last year, but I’m so happy to be part of this welcoming community. I hope I’m able to give back to you guys in the only way I know how: writing a Kuroken soulmates AU.
> 
> Thank you so much to my betas Christy ([@kodzukuro](https://twitter.com/kodzukuro)) and Jules ([@rhysiia_marie](https://twitter.com/rhysiia_marie)). I know drafts can be a bit of a mess, but your comments and suggestions helped immensely.
> 
> AN EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS to my editor SnailsInATrenchCoat (All Hail the Snail Queen) who helps me figure out what the hell I’m doing even if it means staying up until six in the morning. You are both motivating and entertaining and if I had the choice between you and literally anyone else, I would choose you every time.
> 
> Thank you to both those of you who have read my other fics and also those of you who are new to them. I appreciate every single one of you being here.
> 
> Here’s to new adventures!
> 
>  **Twitter:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://twitter.com/TeddyKrueger__)  
>  **Tumblr:** [@TeddyKrueger](https://teddykrueger.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Curious Cat:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://curiouscat.me/TeddyKrueger__)


	2. Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That bad, huh?” she said.
> 
> “Oh you know, Yacchan,” Tetsurou replied. “When he’s not singing praises, he’s delivering vague threats about the state of your academic future.”
> 
> She nodded seriously. “But of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to my editor SnailsInATrenchCoat, and my betas Christy ([@kodzukuro](https://twitter.com/kodzukuro)) and Jules ([@rhysiia_marie](https://twitter.com/rhysiia_marie)). 
> 
> All of the usernames I included in the “Twitch chat” are from friends of mine. I urge you to check them out on Twitter because a few of them are also fic writers! ( **Disclaimer:** They don’t all type exactly how their namesakes do in the fic.)
> 
> I’m thinking the song vibe for this chapter will be _Yakousei Haizu_ by DECO*27 ([which you can find here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXl1ZPk--Zs)).

“Thank you so much, Kuroo-senpai!”

Tetsurou chuckled and waved a hand in front of himself. “You already knew the material. I just confirmed you weren’t studying complete nonsense.”

Konishi-kun, a student from the intro chemistry course Tetsurou TA’d for, shook his head violently. “You’re the only reason half of us aren’t failing the class right now. Hanabusa-sensei doesn’t really…”

He gestured vaguely. Tetsurou nodded.

“Asking her for clarification is the equivalent of saying her daughter is the ugliest child you’ve ever seen. At least in her mind.”

If they’d been traversing the campus or lingering in one of the science building’s two lecture halls, they wouldn’t be so free with their laughter. Luckily her classes were reserved for early mornings and her office hours were the same. Otherwise, Tetsurou may have shut the door to his shared office instead of leaving it cracked open. Might have reinforced it with his extra chair for good measure, too. The woman maintained ears like a hawk and a piercing gaze to match. She claimed to demand respect. In reality, she garnered fear from students and staff alike.

“Well, I gotta get going,” Konishi-kun said, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “Thank you again. You have no idea how much we appreciate it.”

Kuroo smiled softly, a warmth settling in his chest. “Anytime. Come back if you have any questions or just shoot me an email.”

Konishi-kun headed off with a grin and a wave. The last of his energy dwindled from the room and, in turn, from Tetsurou. That kid must’ve been a common invitee to parties, he mused.

Tetsurou tucked his own belongings away and reorganized the desk so the next TA to use the office would feel as though the space was theirs and theirs alone. He found others tended to do the same for him, so he retained the unspoken rule. Then again, maybe they just never moved a single stapler or ream of paper more than a centimeter from its original spot in the first place.

He peeked out his door and pushed it open gently. It tended to creak if he rushed, but he couldn’t risk it. Not today.

He tiptoed upon the thin carpet. Despite his overloaded backpack and the gym bag slung across his shoulders, his footfalls remained silent. The secretary, an angel-faced blonde student from the design department, gave a small wave and made as if to greet him. He raised a finger to his mouth. She clapped her hands over her own.

 _Just a few more steps,_ he thought.

Three-quarters of the way across the lobby, he reached out a hand achingly slow, yearning to grip the metal bars of the glass doors to freedom.

_Don’t notice me. Don’t notice me. Don’t notice—_

“Kuroo-kun?” a voice called from one of the offices. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Even in his old age, the man had superior hearing to Tetsurou’s meagre 24 years. Even if he pretended he didn’t hear, the receptionist might not survive the inevitable interrogation as to whether or not he had ignored instructions.

Tetsurou cursed under his breath and backtracked to the man’s open doorway. Forget the earlier conversation. Professor Hanabusa had nothing on him on both counts of respectability and fear factor.

On the gray-blue door above the small window, a silver plaque shone in the fluorescent lights, no fingerprints or smudges to be seen.

_Dr. Makoto Kurihara  
Professor of Biochemistry_

“Yes, Kurihara-sensei?” Tetsurou said, keeping his voice level.

“Come have a chat.”

 _The application hasn’t even fucking opened yet,_ Tetsurou thought, fighting a grimace. _The first day of October isn’t even until tomorrow._

Dr. Kurihara gestured. “Sit.”

Tetsurou complied. He considered standing, which wasn’t a foreign thought upon entering Dr. Kurihara’s _office-cum-lair_. From his stare, however, he understood, as always, disobedience was an impossibility.

The knobs in the wooden backrest of the chair reserved for students dug into his back. Tiny yellow bruises would develop if he spent more than ten minutes in it. He clasped his hands in his lap and managed a polite, if not strained, smile.

“God, man.” Dr. Kurihara barked laughter. “You look like I’m going to tear you a new one.”

_Wouldn’t put it past him._

Tetsurou nodded, directing his attention to the porcelain knick-knacks neatly aligned on the desk. His favorite was the minuscule statue of a calico cat and a crow taunting each other from their respective territories: land and sky. Tetsurou had told Dr. Kurihara the first time he visited it reminded him of his alma mater. Dr. Kurihara had laughed in disbelief that another Nekoma High alumni graced his office.

It had been a comfort then.

“So,” Dr. Kurihara leaned forward, placing his chin in his hand.

Tetsurou shifted. “So…”

“I’ve been looking forward to a response all weekend regarding your application, but it seems you’ve given me the cold shoulder. What’s going on?”

Tetsurou scratched the back of his neck, mind flashing to the lone unopened email in his inbox. “I’m...still considering it.”

Dr. Kurihara raised an eyebrow. “What’s there to consider?”

Answers—or rather excuses—swirled in Tetsurou’s head, but plucking one from the chaos required skills his education never instilled in him. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not continuing his education would be beneficial to his future. The image of his father returning home from the ramen shop down the road every night, grease and soy sauce stains ingrained in his t-shirt and his features haggard never let Tetsurou forget.

However, when Tetsurou sat down in front of his laptop, hands poised to input the application portal’s URL, he instead closed it and busied himself with assignments or grading.

Dr. Kurihara sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m of the belief that the program would be mad not to accept you, _but_ that’s only if you take the application and your future seriously. Your Master’s program will only take you so far and, as one of my brightest students, I don’t want you locking yourself out of future opportunities.”

“I understand,” Tetsurou said in a low voice.

Dr. Kurihara tapped a finger on the desk, eyes narrowed. Each tap seemed to fall in tandem with Tetsurou’s racing heartbeat. It was almost as if he could distinguish Tetsurou’s pulse. Maybe he wanted to inform him he was more in tune with his animal instincts than was natural or...safe.

“What if I provide a little incentive?”

Tetsurou stiffened. “Sir?”

“I wrote a letter of recommendation under the assumption you’re continuing with the program. You’re more than aware how many requests I receive per semester and I couldn’t possibly prepare more than three or four without the quality dwindling.” His expression darkened and Tetsurou held back a shudder. “You’re intelligent enough to understand what this would mean for you, yes?”

Tetsurou swallowed. Students ended friendships over Dr. Kurihara’s recommendation letters. Admission to Tokyo University’s biochemistry PhD program was a rumored crapshoot, some applications thrown out for the sake of being able to randomly eliminate from an equally qualified applicant pool. A recommendation from him could spare Tetsurou the same treatment. Still, was it worth the effort?

When Tetsurou started undergrad, he’d oriented himself in the direction of school, school, and more school. He consumed his hours with rewriting lecture notes and coloring complex diagrams. A week before an exam, he’d lock his phone away in a drawer and wouldn’t turn it on again until he was sure there was nothing more he could study.

During the first year, Kenma wasn’t yet living with him. During the worst times, though, he would drop by with a bag containing a convenience store meal and a can of coffee. He’d leave as soon as he came, the only remnant of him a tiny note telling Tetsurou to “work hard.”

Tetsurou wouldn’t admit it, but some days he cried over it, tears dripping onto the insides of his glasses until the small text of his books disappeared into a blurry mess.

Now, they joked about how Tetsurou was in charge of all meals since he “owed him” for all the food Kenma purchased with his high school allowance.

“I understand,” he said.

Dr. Kurihara clapped his hands together. “Good man. Now that that’s out of the way, I’m late for a lunch date with my wife. She insisted I try her new karaage recipe and I’m not about to decline.”

On Tetsurou’s way out, the receptionist looked up from her computer and gave a sympathetic smile.

“That bad, huh?” she said.

“Oh you know, Yacchan,” Tetsurou replied. “When he’s not singing praises, he’s delivering vague threats about the state of your academic future.”

She nodded seriously. “But of course.”

Though Kenma wouldn’t be available for an afternoon practice session at their childhood haunt, Tetsurou had another location in which he found solace. His gym bag knocked against his hip, the slosh of his water bottle accompanying his steps all the way to the train station.

  


* * *

  


The three-on-three pseudo match was rife with interruptions as Tetsurou and Coach Nekomata scrutinized for even minor areas of improvement. From his spot on the bench, Tetsurou’s leg bounced rapidly. He wanted to march onto the court himself and give these kids an example of proper form.

The red team’s blockers angled for a shutdown. The white team scored anyways. 

Tetsurou leapt to his feet. “Faster on the jump, guys!”

“Yes, coach!”

The red team attempted a service ace, but the white team had the eldest libero on their side, making it improbable—but not impossible—to score with attacks alone. Nekoma typically relied on their defensive techniques, ones infuriating enough to work their way up to Nationals year after year.

Tetsurou paced back and forth, following each receive, block attempt, and attack as it came. The white team’s setter, a rookie first year, pinpointed the best possible spot for their ace to—

_WHAM._

“Alright, stop!”

Tetsurou jogged over to the red team’s blockers and waved them away from the net. “I want you guys to try something. Hamasaki! Ishioka! Can you do that quick again?”

The two white team members nodded and positioned themselves, awaiting their signal.

“Watch my feet,” Tetsurou said to the red team, keeping his eyes on his opponents.

“Go!”

He sprinted forward, read-blocking where Ishioka would aim his spike. He launched. His arms stretched high, fingertips curving towards the court below. As the ball fell, he grinned as Ishioka’s eyes widened. He may have only been assistant coach, but years of experience wouldn’t allow for a first year to best the methods he’d been known for all through high school.

“Great shot, guys! Almost didn’t get that one.” Tetsurou waved over the white team to include them in the lesson. “So when you go to block, you need to get a good amount of air as well as _stability_. Before you jump, plant your feet facing forward. Otherwise you’re gonna drift to the side and give the spiker an easy gap.”

Each player practiced the motion in pairs before he let them continue the match. After that, both teams built momentum, but the white team maintained their superior defense, especially when armored with their new technique. The game ended 25-22 in their favor.

Coach Nekomata chuckled at Tetsurou’s side. “You’re quite fired up today, aren’t you?”

“What can I say? Sano and Ota are on the cusp of making our defense impenetrable. Not to mention the first years pick up anything and everything insanely fast.”

“Maybe not impenetrable, but they’re reaching your team’s potential when you were captain.”

Tetsurou could still taste the electricity in the air. The scent of Salonpas and sweat had made him dizzy with determination. It had taken two sets to get the entire team accustomed to the size of the Nationals stadium—a year away from it tended to do that—but once the team developed their rhythm, the cats established their personal hunting grounds and tore team after team to pieces.

Well, for three strenuous matches at least. Impenetrability was never guaranteed.

“My bad!” Fueki yelled as a stray ball rolled towards a corner of the gym.

“Think you can manage to bolster our attack power right now?” Coach Nekomata asked, twisting to each side to crack his back. “The ol’ body isn’t willing to make those jumps anymore.”

“You got it, Coach.”

“Oh, and Kuroo?”

Tetsurou drew his attention away from Ishioka’s successful dive. “Yes, Coach?”

“Tell Kenma to come visit every once in a while, will you?”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” Tetsurou said, thinking back to his encounter with Masaki-san and Akane-san. “He’s been overloaded with work lately.”

Coach Nekomata grunted, but not dismissively. “His video gaming thing still working out for him, is it?”

Tetsurou smiled and absentmindedly rubbed his soulmark. As an unspoken rule, both him and Kenma removed their wristbands anytime Tetsurou wasn’t in a relationship. He thought he’d do the same for Kenma, but there’d never been a chance to test the theory.

 _If you finish grading we can go play volleyball,_ the mark said.

“He pays over half the rent on top of all the games he buys, so I’d say he’s doing pretty well for himself.”

“Good. The only thing I ever saw him take seriously besides volleyball were those games of his. He knew early what he wanted and he took hold of it.” There was a glint in his eyes as he examined Tetsurou. “You found what you want to take hold of yet?”

“Ah.” Tetsurou rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m figuring it out.”

A half-truth.

Coach Nekomata hummed. “Don’t exhaust yourself on something you’re not sure about. You’ve got a light in you and I’d hate to see it blown out before you find a chance to discover what love means to you.”

There wasn’t a reply for a statement like that. Tetsurou instead nodded and returned to practice. He internalized the opinions of the two old men as he doled out instructions; men who seemed to want nothing more than for him to pick a side.

_What does one do, however, when the sides aren’t clearly defined?_

  


* * *

  


**_Second Year, High School_ **

Kenma frowned and gripped his backpack straps, staring at the pavement. He and Kuroo walked underneath the orange sky, the drifting clouds seemingly leading their way home.

“You should just go for it,” Kuroo said, spinning his new volleyball between his palms.

Kenma shrugged. “I doubt anyone would care.”

“Well, yeah, maybe, but…” Kuroo placed the ball on his head and kept an even stride, the ball barely extending past the reaches of its new center of gravity: his head. “No one cares that I can put this thing on my head and walk almost all the way home, but I wouldn’t _know_ that if I hadn’t tried. It’s all about the attempt, my man.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Kuroo grinned. “Ah, but I’m an intelligent idiot.”

When it came to the short list of aspirations Kenma allowed to fall from his lips, Kuroo would hold his words close even after Kenma decided it wasn’t in his best interest to pursue them. This time, though, maybe Kenma should move forward from the immature notion he could make a career out of playing video games for profit. What kind of career was that anyways?

Kuroo crossed his arms and hummed. “I mean, people record those ‘let’s play’ videos on...YouTube and stuff, right? There was that Twitch thing you were talking about, too. There’s an audience there. You could just _slide right in_.”

“Okay, first off, don’t say ‘slide right in’ like that,” Kenma said, wrinkling his nose. “Second off, people don’t exactly praise me for my ability to entertain.”

Kuroo opened his mouth.

“Lev _does not_ count.”

Kuroo closed it again.

“Besides...you know how Dad is.”

Kenma’s father taught economics at a prestigious university across the prefecture line in Tokyo, a university whose name he never failed to drop during even the most informal social interactions. There was an expectation that Kenma would go further than him, not teaching, but doing. When Kenma developed his interest in technology, his father developed a life plan for him to pursue computer science. The rigidity didn’t allow for other activities.

His father tolerated his gaming habit, but whenever Kenma brought home a subpar test score, his nostrils flared and the accusations would begin.

 _“What is this?”_ he would say. _“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”_

The volleyball dropped from Kuroo’s head to the pavement. He left Kenma’s side to chase it down to the riverside, squawking about how close he’d been to a record. Kenma held back a small chuckle, one which almost felt misplaced.

He descended the hillside to where Kuroo brushed dirt and loose grass off his ball. When they reached a level plane, Kuroo flicked his eyes up to meet Kenma’s. His breath hitched. A warmness flooded his chest. Kenma pretended the sensations were from surprise alone. In the dark of his room, however, he acknowledged he’d never responded that way to anyone besides him.

“I’ve only ever known you to avoid the things you don’t want to do, but I never knew you’d avoid the things you love.”

Kenma surveyed the grass swaying in the autumn wind, his range of vision diminishing as his hair fell forward. “I can’t love something I haven’t experienced before.”

“So that wasn’t you in those video files?”

Kenma’s head shot up. “You _didn’t_.”

Kuroo threw his hands up to defend himself. “You left them open. I thought it was just something you were going to show me anyways so I played them.”

Of course Kenma had left it open. Kuroo was as much a fixture of his home as his mother or father. Kenma didn’t feel the need to make his room look perfect or lock his computer whenever he came over. They didn’t keep secrets from each other because they’d find out sooner or later anyway.

Well, it was sooner.

Kuroo softly smirked. “I don’t even really like watching those ‘let’s play’ videos, but if you posted what you’ve already recorded, I’d totally keep watching. You’ve got this like...dry humor thing going on and people _love_ that _kuudere_ shit. People would _lose_ it.”

 _There’s only one person that matters enough to impress,_ Kenma thought.

Kuroo grew up with a father who instilled the concept in him that it’s more important to test uncomfortable ideas before rejecting them. If Kuroo didn’t like something, he would shrug and say, “That sucked. Volleyball?” He never concerned himself with the fear of wasting time. The pursuit of the attempt was what mattered most.

“Look, pretend your dad had no say in this. Pretend the only person you only had to face up to was future Kenma.” Kuroo placed the ball back on his head. “Could you live with yourself if you didn’t try?”

For the millionth time, Kenma almost reached for Kuroo’s hand. He wanted to entangle their fingers and squeeze until they needed to let go for circulation’s sake. His throat closed, eliminating his ability to speak.

“That’s what I thought!” Kuroo said, grinning so wide his eyes closed.

Kenma hated exercise for fitness’s sake. He hated stuffy households and traditional fathers with plans he didn’t get a say in. He hated stepping out of his comfort zone without the promise of steady ground on the other side.

But he loved Kuroo’s smile even more.

  


* * *

  


**_Present Day_ **

Kenma finished adjusting his camera, the angle just enough to the side so he wouldn’t be looking straight into the lens. He watched the mirror image of himself on his computer screen as he worked on lighting. Periodically he’d sit down in his chair and check for odd shadowing that could make him look angry or ghostlike.

When he was finally satisfied, he checked the time on his phone. Ten more minutes until he went live.

He opened up a message thread between himself and a few friends, each one a mod for his gaming streams.

 **bokkun:** you cant tell me rainbow lighting wouldnt be awesome  
**bokkun:** the ambience would be like...amazing

 **Akamofu:** Bokuto-san, rainbow lighting would distract from the game itself, which is the entire point of the stream.

 **Kitsu:** I agree with Akaashi.  
**Kitsu:** Besides, he already has colored background lighting.

 **bokkun:** but like  
**bokkun:** you can **always** have more °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Kenma smiled. If Kou hadn’t been so preoccupied with his volleyball career, he had the makings of an interesting streamer, to say the least.

 **Kodzuken:** You should’ve asked me for rainbow lighting in June.  
**Kodzuken:** I might’ve done it then tbh.

 **bokkun:** kenmaaaaaaaa  
**bokkun:** tell them how awesome rainbow lighting would be

 **Kodzuken:** Okay yeah.  
**Kodzuken:** It’d be kinda cool.

 **Akamofu:** Oh. Hello, Kenma.  
**Akamofu:** Kita-san and I were just talking earlier about background colors for next month.

 **Kitsu:** Can’t go wrong with orange, can you?

 **Akamofu:** I understand the sentiment, but what about purple and green? I’ve found it gives off a sinister vibe. Like Disney villains.

 **Kitsu:** Yeah, but do people even think of October when they see those colors?

 **Akamofu:** I’d posit that people would understand.

When Kenma was 17, he’d only been concerned with recording a video and hoping his internet didn’t crash before he could get it uploaded. Not to mention having to turn off his monitor if his dad decided to walk into the room without knocking.

Akaashi Keiji, known as Akamofu during streams, volunteered to assist with moderating when Kenma had complained about multitasking during games he couldn’t pause. Of course, when Keiji volunteered, his enigmatic soulmate Bokuto Koutarou—Bokkun— _had_ to join in, despite being busy with volleyball training. Keiji focused his efforts on enforcing stream rules. Kou, on the other hand...well, he kept the chat lively.

Kita Shinsuke—Kitsu—joined the team later on. Kuroo and Kou had dragged Kenma to a party Kou’s team was hosting. When Kenma dipped away to find a corner to melt into, he met Shinsuke and his soulmate, Aran. They bonded over their respective friends’ inability to keep their voices below a yelling volume. Shinsuke’s specialty became making sure the stream bots were up and running at all times. It’d been who knows how long since the last time one of them malfunctioned.

And now, at 23, his friends were arguing about which color his _background_ should be as if all of his followers would drop him if he didn’t pick the right one. Priorities had changed, but he welcomed it.

Kuroo told Kenma his dedication and skill set granted him his 2 million plus subscribers on YouTube. He said the same of his 15 thousand average viewers per Twitch stream and frequent Front Page hosting. Those numbers were difficult enough to maintain as an English-speaking streamer, much less a Japanese-speaking one. Kenma _still_ claimed it was luck.

Regardless of the cause, five times a week, Kenma would set himself up in front of his computer monitors and perform for an unseen audience. The only traces of them existed in his view count and the comments they left in chat.

 **Kodzuken:** We can decide after the stream.  
**Kodzuken:** You guys ready?

 **Kitsu:** As always.  
**Kitsu:** How about the rest of you?

 **Akamofu:** Ready.

 **bokkun:** oh i am sooooo ready (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧  
**bokkun:** wait  
**bokkun:** is this one scary

Kenma snickered and instead of responding, he prompted his recording program to reveal his face cam and the title screen of the night’s game. 

“Hi everyone. It’s Kodzuken.”

  


* * *

  


Tetsurou groaned upon entering his room. He’d been avoiding dealing with his desk situation since last week, but if he didn’t curtail the chaos now, there were no guarantees he’d get to it anytime soon.

He scooped up pens of black, blue, and red, making sure each was oriented tip side down. They clinked as he dropped them into the cat paw print mug turned pencil holder that his dad had sent him three Christmases ago. Several of his whiteboard markers were capless, dried, and dead. Into the trash they went along with an armful of Calorie Mate wrappers and Black Boss cans.

Despite the fact that his desk was surrounded with stacks of loose-leaf papers—many of them old assignments and research articles—he hesitated to organize them for fear of disturbing their precarious positioning. Better to just make a couple of large stacks and confront it later. Perfect.

His desk chair squeaked under his weight as he dropped into it. If he didn’t get through grading now, he’d have to sacrifice lunch tomorrow and scramble to complete his own assignments. A can of coffee would’ve been beneficial if he’d remembered to pick up more at the store.

He sighed and went over his checklist for the night.

  1. Grade the last batch of exams 
  2. Finish reading the three 20+ page research articles for molecular genetics 
  3. Get started on his physical chemistry midterm paper 
  4. Rework a game plan for Nekoma’s next practice match



Nothing to it.

_Oh wait. It’s past 9, huh?_

Tetsurou opened his laptop, jumped onto Twitch, and typed “Kodzuken” into the search bar. Live footage of a dim manor hallway played on his screen accompanied with eerie footsteps and clanking doors somewhere in the distance. In the top left corner, Kenma’s eyes focused on his monitor, lips pursed in concentration.

 **todxrxki:** Kenmaaaaa!!!!!!!

 **triplegoddess:** OMG KODZUKEN ♡♡♡  
**triplegoddess:** I ACTUALLY GET TO CATCH ONE OF YOUR STREAMS

 **Iucietoo:** ooooh  
**Iucietoo:** youre playing amnesia

 **todxrxki:** We love you!!!!!!

Chat flew by. Tetsurou wasn’t on moderator duty tonight, but his mod permissions allowed him to review comments that were considered predetermined bannable offenses. There were a couple of follower boosting bots, links which were struck immediately, and a couple of people being a tad...not safe for work.

 **Stray:** i didn’t know you were playing this tonight (；⌣̀_⌣́)

Almost immediately after hitting send, the flood directed their assault towards Tetsurou.

 **itsNationJoy:** Hi Stray!

 **Iucietoo:** we were starting to think you were in jail www

 **Stray:** oof  
**Stray:** am i really that unreliable?

 **Iucietoo:** yes

 **neens:** yup

Kenma opened his inventory and took a moment to catch up on chat.

_“Oh. Welcome home, Kuro.”_

Chat exploded.

 **triplegoddess:** DID KODZUKEN JUST SAY WELCOME HOME TO STRAY?????????  
**triplegoddess:** SINCE WHEN IS THIS A THING????????

 **Iucietoo:** they live together

 **todxrxki:** They live together!

 **itsNationJoy:** ^^^^

 **triplegoddess:** I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST HIS MOD HDSJAKHDKASJ

 **bokkun:** yeah! theyre soulmates too ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

 **Akamofu:** Bokkun, please refrain from giving out personal information.

If mods could strike out other mods’ comments, Akaashi probably would’ve done it just then.

 **Iucietoo:** what really ww

 **todxrxki:** Awww!  
**todxrxki:** That’s so cute!

 **triplegoddess:** I KNEW IT  
**triplegoddess:** THEY HAVE A VIBE™

 **itNationJoy:** I mean.  
**itsNationJoy:** You can see Kenma’s wrist.  
**itsNationJoy:** Whenever he lifts his hand.

Kenma chose that moment to take a drink of water, his right wrist on full display as he simultaneously tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. No wristband covered the words. Luckily Kenma’s face cam wasn’t large or zoomed-in enough to grant the glowing white words legibility from the other side of a screen. Even the black outline didn’t help matters much.

 **triplegoddess:** OMG YOU CAN  
**triplegoddess:** !!!!!!!!!  
**triplegoddess:** WAIT ITS ON HIS RIGHT WRIST????

 **neens:** yep.  
**neens:** kodzuken is left-handed.  
**neens:** so it shows on his right wrist.

 **itsNationJoy:** I didn’t even think about that (⊙_⊙)

 **Iucietoo:** wait  
**Iucietoo:** isnt that a platonic soulmark

 **todxrxki:** Ooh.  
**todxrxki:** I’ve actually never seen one before.

 **Iucietoo:** yeah  
**Iucietoo:** if its white with some kind of outline then its platonic

Tetsurou examined his own left wrist, the white words rimmed with a deep gold outline. In a few hours, they would morph to something new.

 **todxrxki:** Oh yeah!  
**todxrxki:** It’s weird seeing one without color.

 **neens:** they’ve known each other since elementary school I think?  
**neens:** so basically they’ve always known they were soulmates.

 **triplegoddess:** UMM THATS AMAZING  
**triplegoddess:** is it true?????

Tetsurou dipped into the chat again amongst the minor fight brewing over whether or not “neens’s” claims were accurate.

 **Stray:** i met him when i was 8 and he was 7 i think?  
**Stray:** it’s been a billion years ┐(︶▽︶)┌

 _“And yet somehow I still tolerate you,”_ Kenma said, smirking.

Tetsurou almost retaliated, but a Gatherer popped out from behind one of the doors causing Kenma to flinch. The gap between Kenma’s normal _kuudere_ self and his scaredy cat self made for the best audience response. Tetsurou preemptively thanked October for the entertainment it would supply him and all of Kodzuken’s other fans.

“And with that, I need to take a break real quick.” Kenma waved and then his “We’ll be right back” screen popped up, smooth remixes of _Legend of Zelda_ songs playing in the background.

A knock sounded at Tetsurou’s door.

“What’s up?”

Kenma poked his head into the room.

“I’m ordering out. What do you want?”

Tetsurou gave him a soft, lopsided smile. “The usual place is fine.”

“You want gyoza, too?”

He scoffed. “Always.”

“Alright. I guess if you leave the stream up you’ll know when it’s here.”

“You want me to get the door when it gets here?”

Kenma shook his head. “I got it.”

Tetsurou reexamined his to-do list and took a deep breath. Maybe he didn’t have to read _all three_ research articles.

  


* * *

  


While salarymen and women typed up reports and took lunch breaks at their desks, Kenma strolled through Inokashira Park. Under the leaves of the cherry trees, young couples splashed oars from their rowboats upon the placid lake. Their giggles and cheerful shouts carried across the water to the walkway. Kenma couldn’t help but smile at their mirth.

The breeze made as if to gently push him to his intended destination. There was no frigidity to it. The streams of sunlight through the leaves above served to keep him warm. When Kenma would traverse the rest of the muggy city this time of year, he borderline melted within a few blocks of his apartment. In the park, however, all the pieces of himself remained right where they were meant to be.

What a nice time to be put together.

Kenma fiddled with the PS Vita in his pocket, fingers intermittently pulling at the black cat cell phone strap Kuroo bought him as an apology present when they were kids. He’d made a comment about how boring it was that Kenma didn’t add stickers or cell phone straps to anything. He’d pretended it hadn’t hurt, but the next day Kuroo held out the strap to him, a mumbled “I’m sorry” on his lips.

Slightly hidden in the more woodsy area of the park was a grouping of weather-worn benches. He started coming out here when Kuroo recommended he get outside a few times a week before he died from lack of sun exposure. Kenma only agreed if it meant he could bring his Vita.

His phone buzzed with a few messages from his mod group.

 **Akamofu:** Did you ever decide on a color? My vote is still for purple and green.

 **Kitsu:** Orange is superior.  
**Kitsu:** I’m telling you.

He dipped into a small alcove; his favorite spot. The leaves surrounded him as if he was in his own world. All that would remain were him and the battle cries of his enemies.

Except, this time someone else had discovered his haven.

His hair color must have been a trick of the light. Maybe Kenma’s eyes weren’t working properly and the leaves had already transitioned to their hues of oranges and golds. He blinked twice. No. Still green. The impossibly orange head of hair stuck up in all directions as if it had never been acquainted with a brush in its life. The man leaned back on his hands and giggled at the crows hopping along the dirt pathway.

Kenma’s shadow loomed above the stranger before he could stop himself from approaching. The man leaned back further and tilted his head up, effectively staring at Kenma upside down.

His eyes widened, but they didn’t seem startled. A grin began to form, so wide that the deep brown disappeared behind closed lids.

“Your eyes are pretty,” the stranger said.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oya? Is that a sunshine boy I spy?
> 
>  **Twitter:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://twitter.com/TeddyKrueger__)  
>  **Tumblr:**[ @TeddyKrueger](https://teddykrueger.tumblr.com)  
>  **Curious Cat:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://curiouscat.me/TeddyKrueger__)


	3. Primer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Stray:** do you know how it feels for your roommate to ghost you without even leaving the apartment???  
>  **Stray:** cause i do
> 
>  **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** You started it (＃￣0￣)
> 
>  **Stray:** ...details

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you to my editor SnailsInATrenchCoat, and my betas Christy ([@kodzukuro](https://twitter.com/kodzukuro)) and Jules ([@kisforkermit](https://twitter.com/kisforkermit)). ALSO, thank you to itsNationJoy ([@itsNationJoy](https://twitter.com/itsNationJoy)) for Hinata’s username! I couldn’t figure out where to go with it, but I knew I wanted him to take pride in his decoy status. Luckily my friends are god tier.
> 
> Is there a theme song to this chapter? I’m not sure. But hey, listen to [_raison d’etre_ by Eve](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulfY8WQE_HE) because it’s awesome.

Tetsurou rolled his shoulders, groaning in tandem with the relief in his muscles. He needed to buy another chair before his current one destroyed his spine for good. 

He blinked rapidly, willing away the blurry strain in his eyes. He’d opted for blue light filtering lenses when he’d bought his glasses his first year of university, but spending more than four hours in front of his computer screen burned his eyes regardless.

He peered over at his laptop clock. 1:30 PM. He needed to catch the train in the next 20 minutes or he’d face the same punishment as the team when they arrive late: 10 laps around the campus.

“Oops,” he said to himself. “Gotta make it quick then.”

His desk drawer squeaked when he retrieved his phone. His lockscreen informed him he’d received over 100 Line notifications and the number continued rising. Idiots.

 **bokkun:** kuroooo

 **Shittykawa:** Kurooooooooo

 **bokkun:** kurooooooooooooooooooo

 **Shittykawa:** Kuroooooooooooooooooooooooooo

 **Akamofu:** That won’t make him respond any faster.

 **bokkun:** sure it will!  
**bokkun:** its worked before <(￣︶￣)>

 **Shittykawa:** I need his bitch ass to respond soooo imma keep going  
**Shittykawa:** Wait who tf changed my name????

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** You left your phone unlocked.

 **Shittykawa:** Babe (ಥ﹏ಥ)

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** Your fault.

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** Okay  
**✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** All better

 **✧Tooru’s Hubby✧:** Whatever.  
**✧Tooru’s Hubby✧:** Hold up.  
**✧Tooru’s Hubby✧:** When the fuck, Tooru???

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** yOu GaVe Me YoUr PaSsWoRdS

 **Akamofu:** I believe these fights would best be delegated to direct messaging.

Tetsurou was in his last year of his Master’s program. He studied biochemistry at one of the most prestigious universities in Japan. And yet, he _still_ associated with them.

 **Stray:** OH MY GOD OIKAWA SHUT UP

 **bokkun:** kuroo!

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** Took you long enough smh

 **Stray:** OH I’M SO SORRY I WAS JUST BUSY DYING IN SCHOOL 凸(`△´＃)

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** (◕‿◕)♡

 **bokkun:** thats okay!  
**bokkun:** were patient

 **Stray:** i-  
**Stray:** okay nvm  
**Stray:** wtf do you guys want?

Oikawa began to type, but Tetsurou intervened.

 **Stray:** and if you list random shit  
**Stray:** or talk about your sex life  
**Stray:** i stg

 **Akamofu:** I second that.

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** ANYWAYS  
**✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** Come over this weekend~  
**✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** I’m bored

 **Stray:** doesn’t iwa-chan literally exist to entertain you?

 **Tooru’s Husband:** “Iwa-chan” has to go visit his grandparents this weekend.  
**Tooru’s Husband:** Honestly Tooru will die if left alone for more than 24 hours.  
**Tooru’s Husband:** You might as well save me the body removal fees.

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** IWa-CHAN wHY  
**✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** ALSO YOUR USERNAME  
**✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** ily sm (*♡∀♡)

 **Tooru’s Husband:** You’re just gonna change it to something more obnoxious if I don’t do this.  
**Tooru’s Husband:** I’m not in the mood to fight you on it.

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** Y’all need to marry someone like him  
**✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** Literal jackpot

 **bokkun:** wait  
**bokkun:** arent you both iwa-chan now

 **Akamofu:** I do recall you changing your last name.

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** Oh you know I took my baby’s name  
**✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** Buuuut he’s still my Iwa-chan ♡

 **Tooru’s Husband:** And you’re still my Shittykawa.

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** …  
**✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** I still love you

Tetsurou groaned. Somehow Iwaizumi managed to add to the chaos despite claiming to hate it himself.

 **Stray:** i have somewhere to be in like 10 minutes so can you PLEASE HURRY TF UP

 **Akamofu:** We were thinking Saturday.  
**Akamofu:** Oikawa-san offered his home.

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** Yep!  
**✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** Entrance fee = alcohol

 **Stray:** okay  
**Stray:** that’s fine  
**Stray:** i’ll ask kenma if he wants to go

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** If you’re coming then he’s not going to say no

 **Stray:** just because he’s not working doesn’t mean he’ll automatically say yes

 **bokkun:** why do you have to ask him  
**bokkun:** i thought he was in gc

 **Stray:** yeah  
**Stray:** he was  
**Stray:** until SOMEONE spammed the chat so much he wouldn’t talk to me FOR A WEEK  
**Stray:** do you know how it feels for your roommate to ghost you without even leaving the apartment???  
**Stray:** cause i do

 **✧Iwa-chan’s Hubby✧:** You started it (＃￣0￣)

 **Stray:** ...details  
**Stray:** anyways  
**Stray:** i’ll ask when he gets home

Tetsurou pocketed his phone and dropped his duffel bag on the back of the couch. He patted his pockets. Keys, wallet, phone. Check, check, and check.

Just then, the telltale thumping of Kenma attempting to open their front door signalled his arrival. On the third try, the door swung open. He tripped into the room with more grace than Tetsurou ever could.

“Oh hey. Good timing. The guys wanna know if‒” Tetsurou stopped digging through his bag for his water bottle, “wait, are you okay?”

Without acknowledging Tetsurou, Kenma kicked off his shoes. One tipped over, a contrast to the neatly aligned pairs next to it. He charged to his room, hands clenched at his sides. His eyebrows furrowed in the way they did whenever he couldn’t grasp the proper tactics for a boss battle.

“Kenma?”

Kenma froze. His ears twitched as if sensing the apprehension in Tetsurou’s tone. 

“Yeah?” he said, hand falling away from his doorknob.

Tetsurou frowned. Why wouldn’t he look at him? “You look all dazed. Did something happen?”

“What? No, I‒” Kenma took a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

“Uh...okay?”

“Did you need something else or…?”

His demeanor wasn’t quite hostile, but Tetsurou worried anyway. _What the hell happened today?_

“No.” Tetsurou shook himself from his thoughts. “I mean, yeah. Iwaizumi is out of town all weekend so Oikawa is throwing a fit. You wanna go babysit with us?”

Kenma let his hair fall into his face. “What day?”

“Saturday.”

He stiffened.

“Can’t go.”

Tetsurou raised an eyebrow. “I thought Saturday was your day off?”

“I’ve gotta...edit...stuff.”

Kenma would never edit on his off days.

“Kenma, are you _sure_ you’re okay?” Tetsurou approached him carefully. “I’m not gonna get in your business or anything, but I need to make sure nothing bad happened to you.”

He placed a hand on top of Kenma’s head. Kenma smiled genuinely, but his lips quivered at the edges.

“I’m _fine_.” He tapped a fist to Tetsurou’s chest. His forward movement caused Tetsurou’s fingers to trace through his hair and along the back of his neck. He hummed. “Stop worrying so much.”

Tetsurou had endured the comments of, “You’re such a mom,” all through high school. Though he’d protested, he’d also acknowledged that most students didn’t carry around Band-Aids and granola bars just in case someone needed one.

Tetsurou squeezed Kenma’s shoulder and stepped away to reluctantly collect his bag. “I’ve gotta get to practice. If something comes up, just text me.”

“Okay.”

“And if you change your mind about Oikawa’s, lemme know and I’ll tell the guys.”

“Okay.”

Before Kenma could disappear into his room, Tetsurou called his name again.

“Yeah?”

“I’m always gonna be here. Whenever you need me.”

Kenma smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “I know.”

His bedroom door closed behind Kenma with a click.

The front door closed behind Tetsurou with a clank.

  


* * *

  


“Great practice, guys!” Tetsurou called out. “Ota! Get started on warm-ups.”

“Yes, sir!”

The boys gathered in a circle and stretched, their captain at the helm. Ota-kun hadn’t let the pressures of captain-hood dissipate entirely, but the trust his teammates allowed him soothed some of the tension in his posture. On the court, they followed his directions without complaint. Off the court, they hung off his shoulders, his laughter the loudest of all. Tetsurou even caught Sano-kun, a libero far more prone to silence than Kenma was, staring at Ota-kun with soft eyes and a barely there smile.

Well, Tetsurou also witnessed them sitting on the clubroom floor, forehead-to-forehead, Ota-kun whispering words sweet enough to bring a blush to Sano-kun’s cheeks. It may have been part of it.

As the season shifted to cool winds and the Gingko trees transitioned from green to yellow, the atmosphere in the gym altered from playful to serious. The qualifiers for the Koushien of volleyball, Spring Interhigh, would begin in November.

Each of the players practiced until the moon peeked over the rooftops of Nekoma’s buildings, despite being told it wasn’t mandatory. Their time on the court was disproportionate to the time they spent studying, but Tetsurou couldn’t find the will to scold them.

One more month. Two matches. Three representatives.

The pressures of representing the Tokyo Prefecture weighed on Tetsurou’s mind just as it weighed on theirs. Alongside assignments, he pored over stats sheets he’d created for each player. Each profile contained two to three pages of notes on individual strengths and weaknesses, comments on teammate compatibility scribbled in the margins.

He would sip his coffee as he considered whether Fueki-kun would benefit more from spiking or receiving drills, or if Ishioka-kun was capable of becoming Ota-kun’s substitute should he need a break. 

His limbs would grow heavy and his penmanship sloppy as the clock rushed from two, three, four in the morning. Even in his dreams, he watched them reenact the strategies he’d developed.

But when he arrived at practice, he couldn’t regret his companionship with the twilight hours. They won more scrimmages. They rallied longer. They jumped higher.

They could _make it_. Maybe they could even obliterate Fukurodani for the first time in almost two decades. He could needle Bokuto about it if they did.

He’d been waiting for Kenma to fess up to his behavior earlier, but when Tetsurou checked his phone, a notification from Kita greeted him instead.

 **Kitsu:** Hey.  
**Kitsu:** Do you already have plans for Kenma’s birthday?

He scrambled to check his phone calendar and groaned softly. _Oh shit. That’s next week._

In Tetsurou’s defense, Kenma refused to mention his birthday until the day before it occurred. When Tetsurou had received his first paycheck two years ago, he’d thought up grandiose plans of wowing him. Kenma instead met him with an eye roll and a reservation for a cozy sushi restaurant in Shibuya. Tetsurou attempted to convince him to try something new, but Kenma chose the same plans year after year.

 **Stray:** we usually just do sushi and hang out at home  
**Stray:** what’s up?

 **Kitsu:** Well, Aran and I were thinking of coming up if you all were okay with it.

The last time they’d visited Kita and Aran involved the drunken Miya twins threatening to fight each other in the middle of traffic. It took three of them to hold Osamu back while Kenma begrudgingly comforted a sobbing Atsumu. They’d turned 20 that day. _Has it really been four years since then?_

Kenma and Aran had met each other officially at one of Bokuto’s team’s parties, but almost the entirety of their friendship remained virtual. Since Kita had decided to follow Aran wherever he went, they were almost always too far for him to visit regularly.

Kita’s commentary during Kenma’s streams often left Kenma smiling. Sometimes he even shocked his fans with a chuckle or two. But whenever he got off the phone with Kita, he’d drag Tetsurou onto the couch and press closer to him than usual.

Tetsurou had bookmarked the online listing of prices for shinkansen tickets to Osaka, but he and Kenma couldn’t get enough time off to go.

 **Stray:** yooo!  
**Stray:** he’d love that  
**Stray:** he’s been kinda off lately, so seeing you might cheer him up

 **Kitsu:** Off?

 **Stray:** yeah  
**Stray:** he didn’t say what’s up, but i can tell

 **Kitsu:** Good timing then.  
**Kitsu:** Aran and I were thinking of taking some days off before he starts season.  
**Kitsu:** Are you celebrating during the week or is the weekend better?

 **Stray:** weekend is better  
**Stray:** you could come on friday or something and stay through the weekend  
**Stray:** did you wanna stay at our place?  
**Stray:** i can give up my bed for a few nights

 **Kitsu:** No that’s okay.  
**Kitsu:** Aran wanted to splurge so we’re getting a hotel room.

 **Stray:** him and his athlete money

 **Kitsu:** Haha.  
**Kitsu:** Well, I’ll let him know and get back to you.

 **Stray:** sweet  
**Stray:** he’s gonna love it

“What’re you grinning to yourself about?”

Tetsurou looked up to a smirking Coach Nekomata.

“Ah. A couple friends are coming up from Osaka for Kenma’s birthday. We haven’t seen them in a few years. Do you remember Kita Shinsuke or Ojiro Aran at all?”

“The Inarizaki captain and their wing spiker from your year?”

“Those are the ones.”

Coach Nekomata hummed. “Those boys were in a league all their own from what I remember.”

Kita hadn’t been the most gifted of Inarizaki’s volleyball team—the Miya twins overshadowed the other members—but he’d been known for his strict routine. Every day he perfected his serves, his receives, his spikes, and so on. Carefully. Properly. When he stepped on the court at Interhigh, he wasn’t fazed. It was just another practice.

Aran, on the other hand, was the fifth best hitter out of Japan’s boys’ volleyball teams. He ranked just beneath Bokuto, but the opposite teams would cringe when faced when blocking his spikes. After high school, he’d been scouted into the Division 1 V League, returning to rookie status for the first time in three years. It took him two more to take over as the Tachibana Red Falcons regular outside hitter.

“Well, you tell Kenma happy birthday for me,” Coach Nekomata said, groaning a bit as he lifted off the bench.

“I will, sir.”

Tetsurou strode the sidewalks of Saitama, the street lights guiding his way through the quiet suburbs to the din of the train station. He flew down the escalator, jumping over the last few steps before swinging himself around a pillar and heading for his platform.

Next weekend, he’d get to surprise Kenma. Kita’s unexpected gift.

_I haven’t gotten him a present._

Tetsurou crossed his arms and stared at the ground. Kenma was the type to mention offhand he needed something, but before Tetsurou could pick it up for him, a package would arrive, the item within. _A week and a half to get creative and that’s if I don’t collapse from everything else first._

As soon as Tetsurou dropped into his seat, he leaned his head against the divider between the end seat and the doors. Assignments, grading, work, and an application. Time might as well have not existed because he had none. Where could he squeeze in time for Kenma research?

 _I just…_ he thought, _need to stay up. For one more hour for a couple nights and…_

The more he blinked, the more difficult it became to open his eyes. _Maybe a nap first._

His breath came slower and slower. The tracks clacked, their heavy rhythm combined with the vibration beneath his feet lulling him further from reality.

_Four steps. Pivot. Four steps. Pivot._

_Tetsurou paced his room, hands running through his hair enough times his scalp began to ache from the contact._

_In five minutes, he needed to submit his application. And yet, he hadn’t even begun the essay portion. The questions bounced against his skull like rubber bullets._

_“Answer the questions,” he begged himself. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”_

_“11:59 PM,” his wall clock chirped._

_What would he do if he didn’t get his PhD? Who would he be? A button-down hung from the wall, the red darkened with grease and sweat stains._

_The wall clock began screeching. “12:25 AM!”_

_“Shit!”_

_‘You’re out of time,’ a voice spoke behind him. He spun around. No one. He hadn’t imagined the breath at his ear, had he? He stared into his mirror in case whoever it was appeared behind him. His red shirt collar dripped with a substance reeking of broth and miso._

_‘Boo.’_

_Tetsurou jolted. His father’s bitter laugh rang out._

_‘Don’t end up like me, Tetsu.’_

_‘Us, dear,’ a woman corrected. ‘Don’t end up like us.’_

Tetsurou jerked awake.

_“Next stop is Sugamo Station. Sugamo Station.”_

Before exiting, he ran his thumb across his soulmark. He longed for home.

  


* * *

  


Kenma slumped in his high-backed chair. His intended two hour session with a ten minute break turned into a four hour session with a zero minute break. If Akaashi hadn’t spammed the “water break” bot, Kenma’s viewers wouldn’t have flooded chat demanding he pause. He thankfully obliged.

He scrolled through his social media, spreading other’s content and checking his notifications. A few fans tagged him in posts about his current stream, others DM’d fanart—some he wished he hadn’t viewed—and a YouTuber emailed him about a possible collaboration. 

Bokuto had sent memes with zero context and—as far as he could tell—zero meaning. Shinsuke, on the hand, sent photos of the Miya twins, Aran, and himself holding up flasks of sake. The background was replete with streamers, balloons, and other people whose faces Kenma couldn’t distinguish.

 **Kodzuken:** Tell the twins happy birthday.

He didn’t wait long for a reply.

 **Kitsu:** Can do.

Three messages from another contact came rapid-fire.

 **grtstdecoy10:** hi!  
**grtstdecoy10:** i was thinking we could meet at the station by meiji-jingu!  
**grtstdecoy10:** it’s the closest to where we’re going!

Heat rose in Kenma’s cheeks and he groaned into his hands.

He hadn’t meant to agree to going out with the stranger at the park. The second he’d commented on the attractiveness of his eyes, he’d almost balked with a muttered, “Sorry.” Instead, the man had scooted over and gestured for Kenma to join him.

And he complied.

They had sat in silence for a while, Kenma again fidgeting with his Vita’s strap. _Can I play? Is he gonna get mad if I do?_

Eventually he pulled the console out and dug around in his pockets for headphones.

 _“Woah! Is that a Vita?”_ the stranger had asked, leaning into Kenma’s space.

Kenma leaned away. _“Yeah.”_

 _“I always wanted one as a kid,”_ he had told him, _“but my parents made me play outside instead. I mean, not that that’s a bad thing.”_

Kenma hummed both in affirmation and disbelief. He had grown accustomed to others criticizing his hobby, but the stranger’s eyes had sparkled with genuine interest.

As Kenma had given short, but not curt, answers about his favorite games from across the years, he’d spotted the glowing white words on the stranger’s wrist. His eyes widened. At first the outline appeared as black as his own, but when the stranger had shifted his wrist into the light, it flashed a deep blue.

 _“You have a platonic soulmate.”_ Kenma had said.

 _“Yeah!”_ The stranger had declared, causing Kenma to jump. _“You have one, too!”_

_“Oh. Yeah.”_

_“That’s insane! I’ve never met anyone else with one. I mean, I know they’re rare and stuff, but I didn’t think they’d be that rare.”_

Kenma had nodded. _“I’ve never met anyone either.”_

The stranger had grinned. _“Hey, can I say something crazy?”_

_“Uh...sure?”_

The stranger had twiddled his fingers and looked askance. _“If I asked you on a date, would that be weird?”_

Kenma had been asked out a number of times in the past, but they’d all had full-color soulmarks. He couldn’t bring himself to take a chance on someone who’d been promised to someone else.

_But he’s not promised to anyone else, is he?_

Kenma had shook his head. It wasn’t weird. His brain had fritzed as they brushed fingers when exchanging phones to enter their contact information. “Hinata Shouyou”. Both his first and last name contained variations of the word “sun”.

 _Of course,_ Kenma had thought, hiding a small laugh behind his hand.

“Oh shit,” Kenma yelped. He extracted himself from the memory and rushed to start streaming again.

“Sorry, guys,” he said as soon as his game and face cam filled the screen. “I got a bit distracted.”

 **itsNationJoy:** No worries!

 **todxrxki:** Hope it’s nothing serious!

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

He made steady progress in _Monster Hunter_ before his thoughts turned to Kuroo. Even though Kuroo had experience with dating, Kenma couldn’t tell him. And since he couldn’t tell him, he’d been avoiding him. He kept his door closed at all hours and, when he _had_ to leave his room, he tiptoed to the kitchen or the bathroom and prayed Kuroo wouldn’t see him. They’d only run into each other three times this week, but every time, Kuroo looked a little more crestfallen.

 _It’s not his problem,_ Kenma reminded himself. _I can figure this out on my own. Besides, it’s not like he would care._

Kenma forced himself to accept this because, if Kuroo did care, there was no outcome where he wouldn’t congratulate him and give him positive advice. His stomach roiled at the thought every time.

The monster roared as Kenma’s character fell to the forest floor in defeat.

 **Akaashi:** !f

 **Death Bot:** Kodzuken Deaths: 5

 **triplegoddess:** YOU CAN DO IT!!!!!

 **Iucietoo:** can he? ww

“Alright, I think that’s it for me,” he said.

Half the chat booed him. The other half said their good nights.

“See you guys soon.”

He shut his systems down and flopped onto his bed. He typed—and retyped—a message and marveled at his eloquent prose.

 **Kodzuken:** SOS

 **Kitsu:** You rang?

 **Kodzuken:** I have a date.

Shinsuke typed, but halted so many times, Kenma grew aggravated.

“Come _on_.”

Finally a response.

 **Kitsu:** I don’t see the problem?  
**Kitsu:** Just hang out like you normally do.  
**Kitsu:** Albeit with a more...romantic undertone.

Kenma furrowed his brow. Normally do?

 **Kodzuken:** Uhh.  
**Kodzuken:** I feel like we’re talking about completely different people.

 **Kitsu:** Are we not talking about Kuroo?

 **Kodzuken:** …

 **Kitsu:** Okay, then who?

 **Kodzuken:** I met someone the other day and he asked me out.

Kenma recounted the story.

 **Kitsu:** That sounds like...  
**Kitsu:** Never mind.  
**Kitsu:** I’m guessing you’re nervous?

 **Kodzuken:** I don’t even know *what* I feel.  
**Kodzuken:** I just…  
**Kodzuken:** I’ve never actually gone on a date?

 **Kitsu:** What about the stuff that happened in high school?

 **Kodzuken:** No.  
**Kodzuken:** We never actually dated.  
**Kodzuken:** So you can see I NEED HELP.

Kenma buried his face in his pillow as he waited for his phone to vibrate. At his age, most people had found their soulmate or had at least been on their first date. Hell, Tooru and Hajime married almost three years ago. Kenma wasn’t inexperienced in other ways, but dating was wading through a swamp filled with rock-disguised-alligators. He wasn’t sure what triggered a game over.

His phone rang.

Kenma sighed in greeting. “Shinsuke, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

_“Well lucky for you, I do.”_

Not the voice he was expecting.

“Why am I not surprised he’s been updating you on my inability to function like an adult?”

 _“Because my lovin' boyfriend don’ know a thing about datin’,”_ Aran said with a chuckle. _“Who do you think did all the work?”_

Shinsuke never divulged to Kenma the entire story behind their “courtship”, but Kenma vaguely recalled Aran laughing about how Shinsuke wouldn’t initiate kissing until two years into their relationship. Shinsuke said it wasn’t that he wasn’t willing, but instead that his face exploded into bright red whenever he tried.

Somewhere in the background, Kenma could hear a deep bass and crooning lyrics garbled by Kita’s microphone quality. Someone (Atsumu?) screamed, _“You takin' the piss, mate!?”_ before a door clicked shut and deafened all disturbances. 

“Wait, you guys are at the Miya twins’ party right now.” Kenma groaned at his own idiocy. “I’m sorry. I’ll figure it out myself. Go have fun.”

 _“No, it’s alright,”_ Aran said. _“I’ve been needin’ a break from those wankers. They don’ know how to celebrate without killin’ each other before the night’s over.”_

Kenma gave a breathy chuckle. “Yeah.”

_“So, how can I help?”_

Kenma laid an arm across his eyes. “I don’t know.”

_“First of all, why are you askin’ us and not Kuroo?”_

Kenma grimaced.

 _“I can_ feel _your reaction.”_ Aran hummed in thought. _“Well, pick a nice outfit, don’ smell like y’ve not been outta the house in five hundred years, and pretend yer hangin’ out with Kuroo or somethin’.”_

“There are five thousand problematic things in that advice and most of them are in that last suggestion.”

 _“I dunno what to tell you. You could always go on a date with_ him _instead of some other bloke.”_

“You know that’s never going to happen.”

_“Y’ve never tried.”_

Kenma threw that option away the night he received his soulmark.

 _“Sorry, love,”_ Aran said gently. _“I know that’s a touchy subject for you. But y’ve got this.”_

“What if I run out of things to say?”

_“That’s why there’s two of you.”_

After a few more assurances, Kenma acquiesced. Aran was right. He’d be okay.

Kenma jumped at someone knocking, but relaxed when he heard whispering on the other end of the phone. 

_“Hey, it’s me.”_

“Hey, Shinsuke.”

_“You feelin’ better?”_

Kenma laughed bitterly, but at least his chest wasn’t constricted in a vise. “I think I’ll be okay.”

_“We’re here if you need anythin’ else.”_

_I’m always gonna be here. Whenever you need me._

“I know.”

They said their goodbyes. Kenma again stared at Shouyou’s messages. He took a deep breath and willed himself to respond.

 **Kodzuken:** Sounds good.

A reply came before he could throw his phone into the corner of his room.

 **grtstdecoy10:** great!!!  
**grtstdecoy10:** i’ll see you then!!!

Kenma drew his blankets over himself. Saturday didn’t have to be a big deal. He could meet up with Shouyou, have fun, and go home. _I might not even like him._

He’d survive.

Probably.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this was a double update, the actual end notes will be in the next chapter~
> 
> But also huge thank you for 100 kudos! I loved building this soulmate universe and I'm glad I get to share it with y'all~
> 
>  **Twitter:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://twitter.com/TeddyKrueger__)  
>  **Tumblr:**[ @TeddyKrueger](https://teddykrueger.tumblr.com)  
>  **Curious Cat:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://curiouscat.me/TeddyKrueger__)


	4. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi pushed his glasses up and sighed. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
> 
> “What did I do?!” Oikawa yelped, hand placed over his chest as if in pain.
> 
> “Not you, Oikawa-san. The other pain in the ass.”
> 
> “Okay then what did _I_ do?” Tetsurou said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my editor and betas as always! Y’all keep me sane.
> 
> This chapter’s song recommendation is…[ _Pretender_ by dism!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQ8WlA2GXbk) One of the lyrics translates to “I’m not your soulmate” soooo...ANYWAYS ENJOY!

Bokuto whistled. “That’s rough buddy.”

“Can you not quote _Avatar_ at me after telling you about the breakup?” Tetsurou said, smacking Bokuto on the arm.

Oikawa took a sip of red wine and hummed, draping his arm along the back of his loveseat. “I mean, I can see where she’s coming from. You’re weren’t a _complete_ dick— _don’t give me that face_ —but you should’ve known going in you couldn’t dedicate any time to her.”

Tetsurou groaned and sunk further into Oikawa’s plush white couch. If the piece of furniture wasn’t worth more than a year of Tetsurou’s rent, he may have dissolved into the fibers. “I _know_ that. I thought I could handle it…”

“You _always_ say that and yet,” Oikawa gestured to the room, “here we are.”

Tetsurou’s eyes rested on the coffee table in front of him. Oikawa’s ornate chandelier reflected in the spotless glass panes, lightly swaying from the breeze entering through two large windows. Though the couch Tetsurou sat on had ample room for all four of them, only he occupied the cushions. Akaashi had opted for the armchair, teal vine patterns complimenting the rest of the teal accents in the living room’s decor. Bokuto sat in his lap, legs hanging off the side. _Here_ wasn’t a terrible place to be.

Tetsurou lifted his beer bottle off the translucent mosaic coaster and raised it in a mock toast. “Here we are.”

“What did you even like about her?” Oikawa asked, eyeing Tetsurou over the edge of his glass.

Tetsurou shrugged. “She was cute, I guess. Funny, nice.”

Akaashi pushed his glasses up and sighed. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“What did I do?!” Oikawa yelped, hand placed over his chest as if in pain.

“Not you, Oikawa-san. The other pain in the ass.”

“Okay then what did _I_ do?” Tetsurou said.

“I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but have you ever spoken about your partners in a way that wasn’t generic?”

Tetsurou quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean generic?”

“Kind. Nice. Funny. Sweet. Cute.” Akaashi listed each trait while counting on his fingers. “Those words say nothing about true character.”

Tetsurou crossed his arms. An ideal person _would_ be kind, funny, and cute. He described them that way, sure, but they’d also had more to their personalities than the basics. He hadn’t dated robots.

“Well what about…” Tetsurou tried conjuring up the image of the second-year college student he’d dated in his first year. _The name. What was his name?_

“About?”

“Okay, fine. I can’t remember that _one_ person, but I don’t talk about _all_ of them that way.”

“Nope,” Bokuto chimed in. “You do.”

Tetsurou narrowed his eyes. “Thanks, bro.”

“You’re welcome, bro!”

Akaashi patted Bokuto’s thigh with a gentle smile before turning his glare back on Tetsurou. Oikawa and Bokuto tended to tease with their chiding, nipping at Tetsurou like puppies itching to tug a rope or chase a ball. Akaashi, on the other hand? Biting. Always biting.

“ _Regardless._ If nothing else, I believe the Kenma comment is worth heeding.”

“Why?”

“Dear?” Akaashi said, eyes still on Tetsurou. “How many relationships has Kuroo-san been in?”

Bokuto looked to the ceiling in thought and counted on his fingers. “Four.”

“And, Oikawa-san, how many times has he been hounded about his relationship with Kenma-san?”

“Four again!” Oikawa chirped.

“Exactly.”

Tetsurou groaned. “Come on. Aren’t you guys supposed to be comforting me or something?”

“I don’t know, man,” Bokuto said, lips quirked. “Even people you weren’t serious with said it. _I_ know you guys are platonic, but maybe there’s a reason why people keep saying that.”

They all looked at him with wide eyes.

“That was kind of insightful for you, Bokkun,” Oikawa said.

Bokuto laughed raucously, his owl eyes disappearing behind a grin. “I say cool things from time to time.”

“Aaaand it’s ruined.”

Four relationships. Four breakups. Five if Tetsurou counted the girl he’d dated for two weeks in high school. Each one of them had said variations of the same sentiment: “ _Are you guys_ sure _you’re platonic?”_

No matter how often he’d explained his platonic bond, his partners would nod and claim understanding. But ultimately, in the middle of the breakup, they would accuse him of being in love with someone else. There was no basis.

_Some truth, maybe._

Tetsurou blinked, hard. Sure, they got cuddly during their late-night _Monster Hunter_ sessions, but snuggling up while half-asleep didn’t have to be romantic. And maybe they slept in the same bed sometimes, but he couldn’t help it when Kenma woke him up with glazed eyes and shaking fingers. The remnants of a nightmare.

This was friendship. This was platonic intimacy. Nothing more.

“Oh, speaking of Kenma,” Oikawa said. “Where is our little kitten?”

“You should really stop calling that before he claws your eyes out.” Tetsurou smirked. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your modeling career over a little nickname.”

“Oh, _please_. Iwa-chan spiked enough volleyballs into my face in high school and I still look gorgeous. The agency isn’t going to drop me over some beauty marks.”

“Yeah, _okay_.” Tetsurou scoffed. “Anyways, he’s supposed to be editing today, but when I ran into my neighbors on the way here, they told me he left the house _sans_ hoodie.”

“He _what_?!” Bokuto and Oikawa yelled in unison, the latter almost spilling his wine.

“Yeah. I didn’t even know he owned a button-up, but that’s what they said. He probably just went to the park for a break or something, but…”

“But?” Akaashi prompted.

Oikawa clapped his hands together. “Maybe he’s on a date.”

Tetsurou snorted. “No way. He’s never been one for that kind of stuff.”

Akaashi stiffened and Bokuto laughed...nervously? Was that what that was? Tetsurou eyed them both curiously. “You guys okay?”

“All good, bro,” Bokuto said with a salute.

Akaashi gestured. “Continue. Please.”

“Okay, well...it’s just...he’s been weird all week. He got home the other day and he didn’t seem all there, you know? And when I asked him what was up, he told me he was fine, but I can tell he’s not. He’s also been avoiding me since then.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Tetsurou rested his head on the back of the couch. “And I’m not sure what the protocol is here because we don’t lie to each other. Never have. But what if he’s in trouble and he can’t tell me for some reason?”

Tetsurou’s mind flashed through the scenarios. Maybe he’d been bombarded by a group of fans and it left him socially inept for the rest of the week. Maybe he’d taken out a loan to buy a new headset and now the Yakuza were extorting him.

Or maybe he’d been attacked.

Tetsurou couldn’t stomach the last scenario.

“I seriously don’t know what to do,” he said finally.

His friends shared a look. After a silent communication, they nodded and Oikawa spoke.

“Alright, I’m going to give you the most important piece of advice of your life. Ready?” Tetsurou nodded. “Next time you ask him if he’s okay, do this: get close, look him in the eyes, and check if his pupils dilate when he answers. If they do, then he’s lying. If they don’t, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

Could he allow himself to be invasive? It was one thing for Tetsurou to lean against him on the couch or carry him to bed, but this screamed excessive.

The room went quiet as if waiting for Tetsurou to reply, yet he had no answer to give.

“If someone is ambidextrous, where does their soulmark end up?”

Tetsurou abandoned his anxieties to try comprehending what bullshit musing Bokuto came up with in his drunken state.

“What does that even mean,” Oikawa whispered.

“Kenma’s ambidextrous, but he’s got a dominant hand,” Tetsurou countered. “No one is 100% ambidextrous.”

“Okay, but,” Bokuto held his wrists out, “say someone _was_ 100% ambidextrous. Where does the soulmark go?”

Oikawa tapped a finger against his lips. “I say it goes on the opposite wrist of whichever hand they used right before midnight.”

Tetsurou shook his head. Idiots. “No way. It’s gotta be random. I say it just jumps from wrist to wrist every day for no discernable reason.”

“What if it’s just half the sentence on one wrist and the other half on the other?” Bokuto posited.

“Nope. Opposite of previously used hand.”

“Random.”

“I’m still going halfsies.”

Akaashi muttered something into his wine.

Oikawa took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry but repeat that one more time before I proceed to lose my shit.”

Akaashi sighed. “I said, ‘It would probably just end up on their foot.’”

Oikawa proceeded to lose his shit.

“What the _fuck_ , Akaashi,” Tetsurou said quietly. Disgust. What he felt was disgust.

“I—you actually just— _ha!_ —I can’t fucking— _breathe_!”

Oikawa lay on the floor, his breath coming in gasps. Even Bokuto fidgeted with his fingers, unable to meet his soulmate’s eyes without snorting. Akaashi’s face remained stoic through it all.

“It’s a genuine answer.”

Oikawa started crying.

“Bro, I love you,” Tetsurou said, clapping Akaashi on the shoulder, “but sometimes you scare me.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Instead of focusing on my _hypothetical theory_ , you should be considering whatever behavior you’re committing which is causing your relationships to suffer.”

Tetsurou nodded.

“Foot,” Bokuto said, choking on the word.

Oikawa wheezed.

  


* * *

  


**_Second Year, Middle School_ **

Kenma first heard the whispers and giggles concerning first kisses upon entering middle school. His classmates had just begun to receive soulmarks, which meant fantasies of meeting one’s fated person ran rampant through the halls.

“I would only ever kiss someone if I _knew_ they were my soulmate,” a girl sighed wistfully in the desk next to him.

Her friend scoffed. “But what if some really hot guy wanted to kiss you and you hadn’t met your soulmate yet? I would totally do it.”

“What do you think Kodzume-kun?”

He looked up from his PSP and tilted his head. “Me?”

“Yeah!”

He shrugged and went back to his game. “I don’t really care.”

He could feel their stares, but inevitably they returned to their conversation as if he’d said nothing at all.

  


* * *

  


Kenma rounded the corner of the gym building, playing with the ends of his backpack straps as he dawdled to his destination. 

_Dear Kenma,_

_We haven’t talked that many times, but if you’re willing, please meet me behind the gym after practice._

_Ito_

When he arrived, Ito was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and lips in a tight line. Sweat beaded his forehead and a few drops ran down his neck. It was a good look on him just as it was on the school’s other athletes. 

When Kenma approached, Ito straightened out, shoulders reaching for his ears.

Kenma stopped several paces away. “I got your letter.”

Ito laughed nervously. “I guess you did.”

“Was there something you wanted to say?”

“Ah.” Ito made as if to speak, but it took him a moment before he could push the words out. “I just...was wondering...if I could try something?”

Kenma made a questioning noise.

“It’s not anything weird! Or...maybe it is? I don’t know. If you could hear me out that’d be great, but if not that’s cool too.” He clutched his arm.

“Is this about volleyball?”

Ito laughed in disbelief. “No. And it’s not about Kuroo either in case that’s what you were thinking.”

_Why would I be thinking about Kuroo right now?_

“Okay, then what is it?” Kenma grew impatient. His new copy of _Crystal Chronicles_ was at home and his parents wouldn’t let him touch it until he returned from practice.

Ito mumbled something.

“What?”

“I said...kissing. I wanted to...try kissing.”

Kenma’s eyes widened. The other boy waved his hands in front of himself in defense.

“This isn’t a confession or anything!” he said. “I just thought that maybe you wouldn’t get mad at me if I asked and maybe you would even...say yes? Maybe?”

Kenma should’ve said no immediately. He should’ve repeated his father’s words: “ _Boys don’t do that with other boys._ ” He should’ve walked away, gone home with Kuroo, and played his game.

Instead he nodded.

He’d never considered Ito as anyone other than a teammate, a senpai, a great libero. But in this moment, he couldn’t describe why, more than anything, he needed this to happen.

Ito came closer until they were less than a foot apart. “Okay. I’m gonna do it.”

Kenma nodded again.

“You gotta close your eyes.”

And he did.

 _“Apparently it’s supposed to taste like vanilla or strawberries,”_ his seatmate had said. _“Something sweet.”_

Kenma’s first kiss tasted like nothing at all.

Ito blushed, his eyes downcasted. “Was that...okay?”

Kenma let his hair fall into his face. _It wasn’t_ not _okay, but…_

“Do you want to…?”

Kenma stepped back.

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

_I wanna go home._

“Well, umm. Please don’t tell anyone about this.” Ito bowed deeply. He ran off, kicking up dust in his wake.

He should’ve felt guilty for rejecting him, but he lost himself in his analysis of the situation instead. Where was the spark he was supposed to feel? Was he supposed to open his mouth more? What was he supposed to do with his hands? It plagued him the entire walk home.

“You alright?”

Kenma kicked a rock down the slope leading to the river. “Fine.”

Kuroo jumped in front of him and placed his hands out in a stopping motion. “Liar.”

And when Kenma opened his mouth to snap back, he lost himself to his best friend’s golden eyes, eyes he’d seen behind his eyelids when Ito kissed him. A blinding revelation surfaced: he had chosen the wrong person for his first kiss.

_Oh fuck._

  


* * *

  


Kenma woke to a powerful itching sensation on his right wrist. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and checked for signs of Kuroo being awake. Kenma wouldn’t put it past Kuroo to use him as a guinea pig for his pranks. The third years were a bad influence.

Then he noticed the glow.

Kenma stiffened at the sight, only his arm remaining unparalyzed. He traced the chicken scratch now ingrained in his skin. Where the soulmark was meant to be vibrant with color, instead it was only white with a black outline.

 _No,_ Kenma despaired.

 _You’re my best friend, you know?_ the soulmark mocked.

“Kenma?” Kuroo rasped.

Before Kenma could hide his arm, Kuroo snatched it and pulled it close. His mouth dropped and Kenma felt him vibrating with excitement. He, on the other hand, held his breath, holding his composure.

At the same moment, they both noticed the similar white mark on Kuroo’s own arm.

“Wait, you said this yesterday, didn’t you?” Kuroo asked, examining his mark up close as if it were a volleyball game broadcasted on TV.

_I don’t bother you, do I?_

Kenma winced. Right before they’d gone to bed, he’d agonized over his newfound feelings for his best friend. The words had burst forth from his mouth before he was able to swallow them down. He never dreamed about what his first words would be, but he wished he could scrub away the self-deprecation. 

“It’s platonic,” Kenma muttered. “It’s not all that cool.”

Kuroo grinned, his gold eyes bright despite the only light source being the moon outside Kenma’s window. “But that means we get to be best friends forever, doesn’t it?”

Kenma pulled his knees into his chest, warning himself to keep his tears silent.

“Yeah,” he said. “Forever.”

  


* * *

  


**_Present Day_ **

Kenma leaned against the wall of Harajuku Stations’ east exit, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. In the last week, floral dresses with bright heels were replaced with long skirts and opaque tights. Thin cardigans were layered over T-shirts and blouses, and a few people even had thin scarves wrapped around their necks. 

No matter the season, though, people bustled up and down the streets in packs of people they’d never spoken to. Kenma remained static among them.

“Kenma!” a voice called.

Kenma spotted a flash of orange peeking intermittently over the heads of the station’s thoroughfare. Shouyou popped out of the crowd with a toothy grin, waving both hands in the air.

 _Cute,_ Kenma thought, laughing into his hand.

“Did you wait long?”

Kenma shook his head.

“Good! So, I know you mentioned you like apple pie and I know that crepes aren’t exactly apple pie, but this one stand has some that _sorta_ taste like apple pie so…” Shouyou took a deep breath, “you wanna get some apple pie crepes?”

After all the agonizing over what to wear and begging Aran to teach him how a first date should work, Shouyou’s frenetic energy destroyed his leftover anxiety.

“Sure,” he smiled softly. “Sounds great.”

As they walked downhill, Kenma turned his body sideways so as not to get pushed into the road. He usually avoided coming this far downtown because every time he braced himself to enjoy it, he came close to drowning in the sea of Japan’s city-dwellers.

With Shouyou’s hair as a beacon, they arrived at the gates of Takeshita Street.

Shouyou leaned over to yell over the clamor. “It’s so colorful here! I love it!”

Girls in frilly doll dresses twirled their equally frilled umbrellas as they strolled the narrow pathway. Their wigs were perfectly coiffed, the curls bouncing in all shades of pastel and grayscale. The gothic ones pointed into shops which boasted their alternative fashion collection. The effervescent ones gushed over Hello Kitty purses and figurines.

Outside the smaller stores at the entrance of the street, African men towered over the crowd, waving flyers and beckoning shoppers. They wore hip-hop fashion, making Kenma wonder if the owners of those shops knew the two cultures didn’t necessarily equate.

The further they went, the more aggressive the flyer men became, regardless of their country of origin. Kenma pushed towards the middle of the crowd to avoid them, but it just made breathing more difficult.

Shouyou grabbed his hand without warning. “Here!”

Kenma dipped his head as Shouyou dragged him into an alcove just off the main street. On one side, a faded yellow crepe stand jutted out from the bricked building behind it. The woman inside leaned against the counter, somehow tapping away at her phone even with her sparkly acrylic nails.

“This is the place,” Shouyou said. “I know they don’t have a bajillion flavors like some of the other stands around here, but I swear that you’ll love it.”

“I’ll go order for us, then!”

He pointed animatedly at the sign for their orders. When he pulled out his wallet to pay, he said something that made the woman giggle. Usually when Kenma tried to make conversation with cashiers, the conversation started with, “How are you today” and ended with, “I’m good.”

Shouyou returned with two crepes, one towering with vanilla ice cream, apple slices, and caramel, and the other with chocolate ice cream drizzled with even more chocolate syrup.

Kenma reached in his back pocket for his wallet, but Shouyou shook his head. “Nope. I asked you out. I’ll pay.”

Aran told Kenma he was supposed to pay, though. How did this even work with guys? Was that always the rule? His lifetime of developing social etiquette never prepared him for this. He should’ve subtly asked Kuroo for a second reference. Or Akaashi. Why did he always forget about Akaashi?

“So?” Shouyou prompted.

“Oh.”

Kenma sunk his teeth into the crepe, making sure to get some of the filling. The warm apple slices melted into the smooth ice cream, and the caramel brought the two flavors together. Kenma groaned in pleasure.

“Oh my god.”

Shouyou chuckled and bit into his own crepe. “That’s what I said the first time I came here.”

“Do you come here a lot?”

“Pretty much every week!” Shouyou gestured to a collection of shops just opposite them. “One of my friends works in that street fashion store right there. I don’t think he’s working today and I don’t really shop there, but I always like to explore.”

“Actually, it kinda looks like a place I’d check out,” Kenma mused.

“Wanna go in after we finish eating?” Shouyou asked, an invisible exclamation mark following the question.

This guy didn’t know how to go more than a couple sentences without raising his voice. Kenma didn’t mind it as long as they were amongst a crowd. “Sure.”

Conversation flowed between the two of them, Shouyou jumping from topic to topic with ease. Shouyou took control of its direction, as he had when they first met.

“So, what’s your soulmate like?” he asked while Kenma played with the edges of an overpriced black T-shirt.

“Kuro?” Kenma flushed. “He’s...well, he’s interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“He’s a smartass, but he’s got the grades to back him up. He’s studying at Toudai right now, actually.” Kenma smiled softly. “He’s insanely busy, but he makes time to hang out with me anyway. He also helps coach for our old high school’s volleyball team.”

Shouyou clapped his hands down on Kenma’s shoulders, causing Kenma to flinch. “Wait. You guys played volleyball?!”

“Uh...yeah?” _Please let go._

“What positions?!”

“I played setter and Kuro played middle blocker.”

“ _Woah!_ ” Several people glanced at the two of them and Kenma dropped his gaze to the floor. “You’re just like me and _my_ soulmate. Except he’s the setter and I’m middle blocker. Present tense. We play for our college team.”

He became more of an enigma the longer Kenma accompanied him.

“I would ask you to set for me, but Kageyama would probably kill me if I let anyone else do it,” Shouyou said, lips quirked in irritation. “But maybe you guys can play against us sometime? Although is Kuroo-san...it’s Kuroo-san right?” Kenma nodded. “Is Kuroo-san a hitter or do you need one for a three-vee-three?”

Kenma smirked, recalling their previous venture to the riverside. “I think we can manage.”

By the time the sun began to set and Takeshita Street’s crowd began dwindling, Kenma’s thighs ached and he longed for sweet, sweet silence. The only non-grating noise was Shouyou’s voice as he rambled on about volleyball.

“Well, I’m going the opposite direction, so I guess I’ll say goodbye?” Shouyou said, grinning.

“Yeah. This was...fun actually.”

“Really?!” Shouyou’s hands grabbed Kenma’s. The roughness complimented the coarseness of Kenma’s own hands. “Did you wanna do it again, then?”

Kenma hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes.”

Kenma laughed in disbelief as sunshine boy zipped through the station, everyone stepping out of his way as he went.

  


* * *

  


Tetsurou launched up from his spot on the couch, causing papers to fall from his lap to the floor. He promised himself not to confront Kenma. But the urge snaked in tendrils from his brain, spreading from his spine to the rest of his body in order to coerce him into a forbidden mission.

“Hey,” Tetsurou said.

“Hey,” Kenma replied, eyes wide and searching.

Tetsurou frowned. Was he being obvious? They’d never had to question each other before, so it wasn’t out of the question. Kenma typically confided his troubles within at most a week after they occurred, the only exception being the contents of his nightmares. _Where do I start?_

“Uhh,” he said intelligently.

_Great place to start._

“Sorry,” Kenma said. “I meant to come home earlier, but I kinda got distracted at the...park.”

 _What the hell is going on?_ Kenma only ever apologized when he anticipated conflict, but Tetsurou had nothing to be angry or disappointed over. Kenma could go where he wanted at any time of night and Tetsurou would only ask that he let him know when he planned to get home so Tetsurou didn’t call the cops. 

“You don’t _ever_ have to apologize for coming home late,” Tetsurou said, trying to reassure him with a smile. “Just...I’ve been worried about you lately.”

“Worried?”

“Are you...involved in anything you can’t tell me about? Wait. Stupid question.” Tetsurou rubbed the back of his neck. “I just need to know that no one hurt you and that you’re safe.”

“What? No!” Kenma shook his head furiously. “Nothing is going on. I promise.”

Tetsurou caught the half-truth and fear shot through the vines piercing his skin. He wanted to push. He needed to know Kenma wasn’t going to get hurt or, worse, had already been hurt. He couldn’t fight him on it, though. That wasn’t the way they operated. Options. He needed options.

 _“Next time you ask him if he’s okay…”_ Oikawa’s words drifted into his thoughts.

Tetsurou marched forward. He took Kenma’s chin gently into his fingers and stared into his catlike pupils, now blown wide. A lie. Oikawa said it meant a lie.

“Kuro,” Kenma breathed.

Tetsurou let his hand fall and laughed bitterly, a sheepish smile forming. “Sorry. Checking something.”

“It’s...fine?”

Tetsurou dropped his gaze and hurried to his room. He shut his door before flopping onto his bed and groaning upon touchdown. Kenma lied. If he didn’t, then why did his pupils dilate?

Kenma sometimes held issues back until he worked his way up to speaking, but he’d never flat-out lied before. Or had he? 

Tetsurou shooed the idea away.

He tried to ignore the burning in his cheeks and his stomach. The image of Kenma in Tetsurou’s hands frustrated him. Kenma’s eyes, while never trained on Tetsurou’s own, wouldn’t leave his lips when they were only breaths apart.

Tetsurou closed his eyes, urging his brain to stop repeating, _What if?_

  


* * *

  


Tetsurou composed himself before slipping out of his room to work on the couch. Kenma sat in front of the screen, controller in hand. He nodded in greeting when Tetsurou sat, quickly returning to grinding enemies in silence.

Tetsurou lost himself in updating his stats sheets. Ishioka-kun blocked a good percentage of his teammate’s spikes in the last week. He now trusted him to sub for their regular middle blockers as needed. Sano-kun, on the other hand, kept missing attacks he’d been able to return since Tetsurou first met him. Ota-kun needed some guidance as well…

After three death screams in a five minute period, Tetsurou glanced up from his work, prepared to sass Kenma.

“Why are you just drifting to the–”

Tetsurou halted when he looked down to find a lightly snoring Kenma leaning against his side. His phone screen showed just past midnight, but usually Kenma wouldn’t even agree to closing his eyes before 3 AM.

“Kenma,” Tetsurou murmured. “Time for bed, sleepyhead.”

Kenma mumbled incoherently and looped his arms around Tetsurou’s. His vice-like grip constricted Tetsurou’s blood flow, causing his fingers to tingle with numbness.

Tetsurou chuckled. “Alright, up you go.”

He coaxed Kenma into letting go and lifted him from the couch in a princess carry. Kenma was always surprisingly light, but then again, he barely ate and he no longer trained for volleyball like they had in high school.

Just as Tetsurou adjusted Kenma in his arms to open the sleeping man’s door, Kenma began shaking.

“I’m...sorry,” he whimpered.

 _Nope._ Tetsurou hastened to his own room. _Not leaving him alone tonight._

Tetsurou placed Kenma onto his bed where he curled up and wrapped his arms around his chest. His eyebrows scrunched and his lips grew taut. Still, the fearful protestations fell freely.

Tetsurou crouched to his level and brushed his hair behind his ears. “Shh. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re home, Kenma.”

Kenma didn’t release his hold on himself, but his features relaxed and his nails stopped biting into his skin.

The nightmares had started some time after Kenma’s third year of high school began. Tetsurou first bore witness to it on a weekend visit. Back then, he’d woken him up in a panic. He’d since found that letting him sleep through it didn’t leave him groggy in the morning.

Kenma never expressed what they were about, but more often than not, he’d apologize to an unclear _someone_ in his dreamscape. He claimed he forgot what happened, but he refused to look Tetsurou in the eyes when he said it. 

He pretended to ignore it for Kenma’s comfort, but his decision plagued him on nights like these. Tetsurou couldn’t fix it by hanging bags of convenience store food on Kenma’s doorknob. Instead his heart just ached at Kenma’s unconscious anxieties.

Tetsurou slipped into bed beside him, both of them having already changed into sleepwear. He wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer just to remind Kenma he was there for him. Kenma was okay.

Kenma flipped over and pushed himself into Tetsurou’s chest. Once settled, his breathing evened out, light puffs tickling Tetsurou’s chest. He sighed and traced his fingers up and down Kenma’s spine.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

“Kuro,” Kenma said breathlessly, still asleep.

“I’ve got you.”

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DO WE HAVE A RIVAL IN THE MIDST???
> 
> Fun fact! I’ve actually been to Takeshita Street and it’s _amazing_. The crepes are no joke and I wasn’t kidding about the African men in hip-hop fashion. I’m curious as to what people living in Tokyo think about it.
> 
> Because the Haikyuu manga is ending this coming Sunday, I wanted to dedicate this chapter (as well as this whole fic really) to one of my best friends in the world. I fell in love with Kenma and Kuroo from the moment I saw them and if you hadn’t pushed me to watch the anime (and subsequently, read the manga), I wouldn’t have found this community I’ve come to love dearly. I’m sure you already know what I’m gonna say, but I’m gonna say it again:
> 
> Hey, Char? Thanks for showing me Haikyuu. I like it.
> 
>  **Twitter:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://twitter.com/TeddyKrueger__)  
>  **Tumblr:**[ @TeddyKrueger](https://teddykrueger.tumblr.com)  
>  **Curious Cat:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://curiouscat.me/TeddyKrueger__)


	5. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He opened the front door expecting Bokuto arriving unannounced as usual or Oikawa moaning about some inane fight with Iwaizumi about how Oikawa preferred to do laundry (he didn’t). Instead, a kid more than 20 centimeters shorter than him with tangerine hair peered up, a grin made of pearls themselves shining in the hallway’s fluorescent lighting.
> 
> Tetsurou raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you, kid?”
> 
> The kid twisted his face in irritation. “I’m not a kid.”
> 
> “Whatever you say, Chibi-chan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Jules and SnailsInATrenchCoat for helping me out with this chapter as usual. I swear I almost died writing it, but we got here somehow.
> 
> I don’t really have a song recommendation for this chapter specifically, but go ahead and listen to the Amatsuki and Mafumafu cover of [Yume Fanfare](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvIu5sUQgQg). It’s a cute song.

Tetsurou woke to the sight of Kenma bathed in the afternoon light. For once his features were smoothed out, none of the worries of the waking pressing into his subconscious. His headband lay discarded on his pillow. While he retained the hair tie keeping his bun in place, it was barely doing its job, leaving his hair gently tangled especially in the back. 

After a few more indulgent moments, he sighed and let out a small chuckle. “It was fun while it lasted,” he said regretfully.

He slipped out from underneath the covers and tiptoed around to Kenma’s side of the bed. His snickering threatened to slip out, but he managed to control himself. He poised for the attack.

_One. Two. Three!_

He scooped Kenma into his arms.

“Wake up, birthday boy!”

Like a squirmy cat, Kenma flailed, seeking a way to solid ground. “Kuro, get _off_.”

Tetsurou, being a paragon of politeness, spun him around the room a few times, his braying laughter filling the room.

“ _Kuro,_ ” Kenma warned, but any intended heat was lost to the sleep still ingrained in his voice.

“No can do,” Tetsurou said with a smirk. “I’m your palanquin for the day and I don’t plan on letting your feet touch the floor for as long as I can help it.”

Even turned away, Kenma’s small smile could be sensed. He relaxed in Tetsurou’s arms and huffed in concession.

Tetsurou carried Kenma to the kitchen, dropping him onto the counter. He looked like a disgruntled cat, only in the same room because its human wanted company.

“So what did you want to do today, You Highness?” Tetsurou asked while retrieving breakfast ingredients. _Flour, sugar, baking powder...check._

“Don’t call me that,” Kenma grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Oh come on. I only get to call you that one day a year. Let me have this one.”

“I’m not letting you call–”

Kenma stopped talking as Tetsurou pulled a plastic wrapped bowl from the fridge. Tetsurou hummed in amusement and started to fold the bowl’s mixture into the batter.

“You were saying?” he said innocently.

Kenma pouted and crossed his arms. “You can’t just pull out the cinnamon apples while I’m telling you not to do something. Illegal move.”

“Oh? Why not?”

Kenma struggled for an answer, but instead maintained his silence while Tetsurou worked.

They fell into easy conversation. Tetsurou asked again what Kenma wanted to do for the rest of the day. Kenma said he didn’t have a preference. Tetsurou argued having no preference defeated the purpose of celebrating a birthday. Kenma shrugged in response.

“Can’t we just do what we always do?”

Despite the lackluster response, Tetsurou relented with barely contained excitement. Spending the day doing nothing with Kenma besides sitting in front of their TV screen could be forgiven this once. After all, Kita and Aran would be arriving in just a few days.

Once the pancakes reached the optimal jiggle, Tetsurou plated their food, aiming for gourmet chef style garnishing. All he managed was to make a couple of messy mounds of cinnamon apple topple over the sides of the golden brown cakes.

“Now, my liege,” Tetsurou said, carrying a plate to Kenma as if an underpaid server at a five-star restaurant. He cut into the pancakes with a fork and stabbed through a piece before coating it in syrup. “Open.”

Kenma furrowed his eyebrows. “Why are you trying to feed me?”

“It’s only appropriate.” Tetsurou pushed the fork forward, syrup threatening to drip off the pancake and back onto the plate. “Come on.”

Kenma turned away, a slight flush high on his cheeks. “Stop it, weirdo.”

Tetsurou shrugged with fake indifference. “More for me, then.”

Before he could get it in his mouth, Kenma dove forward and snatched the pancake away with his teeth.

Kenma hummed and licked his lips. “Better than last year.”

Tetsurou froze. His focus honed in on Kenma. Kenma’s hair, his eyes...the corner of his mouth where a smidgen of whipped cream held fast. 

“Hey, you have…” Tetsurou gestured to the corner of his own mouth.

“Oh.” Kenma wiped the side of his mouth with his sleeve. Wrong side. Always the wrong side.

“I swear you do this on purpose.”

Tetsurou reached forward and swiped a thumb at the offending remnants. Kenma’s breath hitched and Tetsurou regretted his actions immediately. But instead of pulling away, they stared at each other, eyes searching for answers to questions they couldn’t even begin to ask without choking on the words.

Tetsurou stepped forward, placing himself between Kenma’s legs. He placed a hand on the counter and left the other just barely brushing Kenma’s cheek. He could’ve sworn Kenma leaned into the touch, but hallucinations weren’t out of the question.

Moments like these were insignificant when considered on a large scale. Any morning they ate breakfast together, Kenma would have a grain of rice or a milk mustache, which Tetsurou wouldn’t hesitate to wipe away. Kenma would grumble and Tetsurou would laugh, light-heartedly telling Kenma he needed to figure out how to be a proper adult for once. Otherwise, strange rumors would surface about the “World Famous Kodzuken”. It had become routine.

This felt like anything but routine...and Tetsurou was terrified.

Tetsurou wet his lips unconsciously. “Hey Kenma, can I–”

The doorbell rang.

He cursed it. He thanked it.

He wanted to ignore it.

“We should get that,” Kenma said, his breath sweet against Tetsurou’s lips.

Tetsurou resisted the urge to chase scent and stepped away. He abdicated his role as palanquin and let Kenma hop off the counter on his own. He could face anyone or anything except for Kenma in his arms again.

He opened the front door expecting Bokuto arriving unannounced as usual or Oikawa moaning about some inane fight with Iwaizumi about how Oikawa preferred to do laundry (he didn’t). Instead, a kid more than 20 centimeters shorter than him with tangerine hair peered up, a grin made of pearls themselves shining in the hallway’s fluorescent lighting.

Tetsurou raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you, kid?”

The kid twisted his face in irritation. “I’m not a kid.”

“Whatever you say, Chibi-chan.”

For a moment, the Chibi-chan began to pout like a hamster deprived of sunflower seeds. Gradually though, some sort of realization seemed to seep into his expression. “Oh! You must be Kuro!”

 _Don’t go shortening names on your own,_ Tetsurou grumbled internally.

He leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. Amongst his friends, the only ones with non-brown or black hair bleached it. So either Chibi-chan dyed it or it belonged to his other parent. Tetsurou grimaced.

“Please tell me you’re not one of my ex’s kids because I swear I used protection.”

The kid tilted his head like a puppy expected to perform a trick its owner hadn’t taught it yet. Steps rushed toward them and Kenma slipped past Tetsurou. He faced Shouyou, but Tetsurou was left to interpret the situation from the back of Kenma’s body alone.

“Hi, Shouyou.”

Tetsurou stared at the top of Kenma’s head.

“Morning, Kenma! Ready to go?”

“Oh, I forgot.”

 _Shouyou_ giggled. “Of course you did.”

Kenma forgot he made plans with someone else. He also forgot to tell Tetsurou he made a new friend. Tetsurou looked between the two of them in confusion. “You know him?”

“Uh, yeah,” Kenma replied, his eyes drifting down the hallway. “Kinda.”

_He’s lying again._

Was Chibi-chan a new friend? No, Kenma would’ve told Tetsurou about him. In high school, Kenma even frequently mentioned Lev—the most polar opposite Kenma had ever encountered—despite his obvious irritation. Ruled out him being an acquaintance as well.

Was he bullying Kenma? No, the sparkle in his eyes held fast, only increasing in intensity when Kenma had appeared in front of him. He probably couldn’t bully anyone unless it was accidental

Was he a date?

“Wait. Roll that back,” Tetsurou said, straightening up as calculations clacked at the forefront of his mind. “Did you just ask him if he’s ready to go? Like go out somewhere?”

“Yeah? We’re doing an escape room today!”

Tetsurou glanced down just in time to witness Kenma lean his head forward. He’d forgotten to tie it up again after waking up, so his bangs made it impossible to catch which emotion he hid. Guilt? Embarrassment? Fear?

“It’s his birthday,” Tetsurou said without looking at Chibi-chan.

Chibi-chan gaped. He grabbed Kenma’s forearms causing Kenma to flinch. “Is that true?! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Kenma turned his head, body tensed and ready to run. Tetsurou had the urge to yank him back into the apartment and slam the door on Chibi-chan’s face.

“It wasn’t important,” Kenma said.

“Okay, I get it if you wanted to be with someone else today,” Tetsurou started slowly, “but I thought you’d tell me if that were the case.”

Kenma fidgeted in Chibi-chan’s grasp, but he didn’t indicate he planned to release him yet. Tetsurou considered swatting Chibi-chan’s hands after Kenma tugged at the end of one of his sleeves, but he clenched his fist instead.

_Careful, Tetsurou. Don’t overwhelm him._

“We don’t have to spend the _whole_ day together,” Kenma said, head falling further forward.

Testurou swallowed his arguments, almost choking at their multitude. Kenma’s birthday wasn’t primarily a _them_ thing anymore. Kenma could be with someone else and without Tetsurou if he chose to. He never had before, but maybe he never had the chance and now he does. From now on, Kenma may never want to spend the entire day together ever again.

But what could he say?

“Okay.” Tetsurou tried for his trademark smirk, but it felt less confident and more strained. “Help me clean up first.”

Kenma busied himself with the dishes while Chibi-chan waited in their entryway. Tetsurou glared at him more than once. There hadn’t been a stranger in their entryway since Akane-san came to greet them for the first time when they moved in. Instead of bearing sweets, however, Chibi-chan came intending to stuff confusion in everyone’s mouths. Tetsurou couldn’t begin to comprehend whether it would melt away like cotton candy or get stuck in his throat like mochi with one misplaced inhale.

After cleaning up, Kenma hurried to his room and emerged ten minutes later in an outfit much nicer than what he wore on a daily basis: a button-down shirt, black jeans, and...his wristband.

“I’ll be back later,” Kenma said, slipping on one of his own jackets and not one of Tetsurou’s.

“Yeah, okay.”

Solitary silence flattened Tetsurou’s motivation to pretend. He braced himself on the kitchen counter and chastised himself. Kenma _should_ want to hang out with other people on his birthday. Tetsurou invited others over every year so Kenma couldn’t turtle up like he does the other 364 days a year. 

Platonic soulmates were meant to support each other without overstepping by way of interference. Just like Kenma hadn’t complained about the numerous dates Tetsurou himself had been on, Tetsurou couldn’t drag him away from someone else as if he had a monopoly on his time.

_It’s not my place. It’s not my place. It’s not–_

An egg cracked in the carton in his hands.

  


* * *

  


“So, it’s your birthday,” Shouyou remarked on the way to the station as if the entire interaction from earlier was nothing out of the ordinary. Platonic soulmates always stood in the doorway awkwardly when someone else showed up to take one of them on a non-platonic date.

 _Oh shit,_ Kenma thought, _what if he knows this is a date?_

“Yeah,” he replied. He focused his attention on his destination rather than his companion. His date. “We were gonna spend the day playing video games and watching movies, but then you showed up.”

“Well, I’m glad I could take you out to do something fun!”

Kenma couldn’t help but wince. Playing video games wasn’t special, but it wasn’t _unspecial._ Still, he doubted it meant much to Kuroo either way. Not really. He’d taken the day off coaching which seemed like a special occasion on the surface, but in reality he could use the free day to get caught up on work or to do grocery shopping or...anything really. Rather than a fun activity, Shouyou provided an opportunity to keep Kenma from letting Kuroo procrastinate more than usual.

They switched lines a couple times before reaching their station and eventually their destination. They dipped into a narrow side street with few people. Only one person passed them by, squeezing through the space between them and the two brick walls. Two others stood at the opposite end of the alley where they whispered to each other, giggles echoing softly. Their lavender and green soulmarks glowed prominently on their wrists.

“So, what are we doing again?” Kenma asked, knowing he should’ve listened the first time Shouyou said it.

“Oh! Right.” Shouyou threw his hands out and gestured to a nondescript door. To the right of it hung a small plaque reading _Crow’s Domain._ “We’re doing an escape room!”

On one hand, Kenma enjoyed puzzle games; the click of a piece fitting into place or the chime of congratulatory music upon opening the chest at the end of a maze-like temple filled him with satisfaction. On the other hand, those puzzles were solitary affairs in a virtual setting.

Laughter drifted down the alleyway. Instead of fading away into some other part of downtown, it grew more raucous. Kenma couldn’t identify how many voices blended together until the group appeared in front of him.

A girl dwarfed by the rest of her group led them. Her blonde hair was pulled into a modest ponytail, but her grin belies a childlike, but polite excitement. She was familiar somehow, but she could’ve worked at the convenience store near his apartment or be an influential politician and he still might not have been able to distinguish her.

“It’s funnier than the time Hinata missed the receive with his arms and it bounced off his foot instead,” she teased, her laugh deep and bright.

A man with brooding blue eyes and a scowl which seemed a little more than permanent grunted in defiance. “It wasn’t _that_ funny.”

A man with silvery brown hair snickered and clapped him on the shoulder. “Getting pegged in the face because you were yelling at Hinata for the five hundredth time is the best thing I’ve seen all year.”

The blonde woman giggled again and refocused her attention in front of her, right where Shouyou and Kenma stood. “Ah!”

The group stopped, all grins present except for two.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

“Yama-sama!” Shouyou called out and rushed forward to tackle-hug the freckles out of him. The guy gave a small “oof” and stumbled backward. 

Luckily a man with the stature and disposition of a cop or a firefighter caught him before he could fall to the concrete. “You’re as energetic as ever,” he said.

“I haven’t seen you guys in forever! I mean, I see Yachi and _Kageyama_ kinda often, but it’s not the same since we graduated.”

“Not like we want to see you.” He must have been Kageyama.

Kenma surveyed their dynamic from Shouyou’s flank. They maintained the same easiness as Kuroo, Kou, and Keiji when together. They didn’t hold back words or pretend they were anyone other than themselves. Each teased the other and everyone took it in stride as if their flaws were sources of strength. Even though they claimed not to have seen each other in a while, their individual joy melded into synchronous mirth.

“Wait, Kozume-san?” the blonde woman asked.

Kenma tugged at one of his sleeves and nodded his head slightly. Where had he seen her? Where had he met her?

“I’m Yachi Hitoka? Kuroo-senpai’s office is in the building I work in.”

Kenma only visited Kuroo’s office on occasion whenever he forgot his sports equipment or bento at home. His memory of her was hazy, but he vaguely recalled a woman at the front desk greeting him by name every time he came by.

“Oh.” Kenma bowed. “Sorry. I should’ve remembered.”

Yachi waved a hand in front of her face frantically. “No! I shouldn’t have assumed you remembered me! You have every right not to-”

“Now, now, little bird.” The silvery-haired man lightly tousled her hair. “I don’t think he’s concerned with something minor like that.”

“Suga-senpai’s right!” Shouyou turned his attention on Kenma. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Kenma shook his head. No one expected him to collect the names of every human being he came across, but Kuroo might have mentioned her once or twice at home when asked about how his TA-ing was going. She even worked in the same office as him. The least Kenma could do was memorize her name. Well, her and the six others he would be solving puzzles with.

They each introduced themselves in turns. First, Suga (“Sugawara is a mouthful, isn’t it?”) Koushi and his husband Sawamura Daichi. Suga taught at an elementary school in the Gakugei Daigaku neighborhood. Sawamura spent most of his time in police uniform assisting the same students across the street on their way to and from school.

Sawamura rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not all I do, of course. This is Tokyo we’re talking about.”

“Of course you do, dear.” Suga patted his arm in mock consolation.

Next was Yamaguchi Tadashi. His constellation-like freckles shifted with every word and expression. He owned a niche electronics shop in Akihabara which specialized in camera and video equipment. His soulmate Tsukishima Kei—a man whose glasses prescription must have been amplified considering he had to compensate for his height—worked as a curator for the Tokyo National Museum.

Kenma searched for an appropriate question to appear engaged. He settled on, “Is it hard to work there?”

“Not really.”

 _Try again next time,_ it seemed he meant.

Besides Yachi who was aiming for employment at a design company after graduate school, only one stranger remained. His eyes never left Kenma’s as he introduced himself as Kageyama Tobio, the starting setter for the Schweiden Adlers. Kenma met plenty of setters through volleyball, but none towered quite like him despite him not being the tallest of the group.

A few others entered the alleyway, but they bypassed their group and congregated in another group in relatively close proximity. Their banter seemed as cheerful as Shouyou’s friends, but Kenma could only guess based on the fact they weren’t speaking Japanese.

“So, what do you do, Kenma-kun?” Suga asked.

Kenma tucked a stray tuft of hair behind his ear. He hated telling people. He took pride in his work, but people all had their own opinions about what constituted work. “I make YouTube videos and stream sometimes.”

“Oh sweet,” Yamaguchi said, perking up with interest. “What’s your channel name? I wanna look you up.”

“Oh. It’s just Kodzuken with a ‘z’.”

All talk behind him ceased.

“Wait, don’t tell me…” someone said behind him in English.

He dreaded turning around, but Kuroo convinced him it was better to be kind to fans than to ruin his reputation over slight inconvenience. If they _were_ fans. Typically he didn’t have to resort to his limited proficiency in English to keep up appearances.

“You _are_ ,” the person said in awe. It was one half of the couple he’d seen whispering to each other earlier. Their fluffy brown hair framed their face and complimented the circular metal-rimmed lenses perched on the bridge of their nose.

Kenma reminded himself to stick to English. “Hi?”

“Kodzuken, right?”

“Umm. Yes?”

One of the other members of the group gestured with his hands rapidly. A few of them watched them and nodded along.

“Yeah, I _know_. Hold on,” the glasses person said.

Kenma considered backing out, but both alleys were closed off by one set of strangers who were supposed to be fans and another set he was supposed to impress. He held back a sigh. “Can I help you?”

The man stopped gesturing with his hands and started mouthing words at Kenma too fast for him to read.

“I’m sorry?”

“He’s saying he’s excited to meet you.” Another member of the group stepped forward, his dark (purple?) eyes flickering with amusement.

_Oh thank god, he speaks Japanese._

“My English isn’t very good. Sorry,” Kenma said, bowing to the entire group despite only having interacted with less than half of them.

Another man came forward, placing a hand on the gesturing man’s shoulder. He was similar in stature to Sawamura, but more sturdy and rigid. Kenma hadn’t come across many soldiers in his life, but “cop” didn’t seem to suit him as it did Sawamura. “Fortunately we don’t mind. Lance here can’t speak so interpreting for him is a part-time position in a way.”

“That’s if he’s trying to be intelligible which, right now, he’s not,” the other man said.

“Keith.”

“ _Shiro_.”

A double language barrier. Kenma felt less self-conscious knowing he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t communicate perfectly according to social norms. “Umm. How do I say, ‘Nice to meet you,’ in...sign language I guess?”

Keith slid the palms of his hands together, tapped his knuckles together while pointing his index fingers, and then pointed at Kenma. Kenma repeated the motions, but much slower and with less precision.

Lance’s eyes lit up.

“He might not be saying anything due to internal combustion, but what he means to say is we love your content,” the glasses person said. “Your Among Us playthroughs are hysterical. Made us start playing together actually.”

Kenma waited for Keith’s interpretation before responding. “Thanks. I’m glad you guys enjoy it.”

“Pidge and Lance just adore you, so I hope you don’t mind our interrupting,” a woman said, her white curls flowing down to her waist.

Lance started signing, garnering the attention of his group again.

“You want to _what_?” Keith asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I have no qualms with that,” the woman said. If Kuroo’s smirk was conniving, hers was deadly.

“Uh, Kenma?”

Kenma suddenly remembered why he came to begin with. “Yeah, Shouyou?”

“What are they talking about?”

“Oh.” Kenma pulled up his YouTube channel on his phone. “My channel apparently has an international audience and two of them are fans I guess. Didn’t think I’d run into any English-speaking fans here.”

“What?!” That’s so cool!”

Kenma shrugged and readjusted the collar of his shirt. In a way, he could call it cool, but more attention meant Kenma had to spend more time on persona upkeep. He could only hold on for so long.

“Can we ask you a favor? Feel free to say no.”

Keith carded his fingers through his hair, reminiscent of the way Oikawa does albeit with less braggadocio and more hesitance.

“Sure?”

“I figure you’re doing this escape room thing, too.” Kenma and company nodded. “Since we both have groups of eight, Lance and Pidge wanted to know if you’d be willing to mix up the groups? They really want to play with the ‘World Famous Kodzuken’ as they put it.”

Kenma would have to get Kuroo banned from Twitter.

“I’d have to ask–”

“That sounds awesome!” 

Shouyou held his arms out in a “bring it on” gesture.

“I guess that settles it,” Suga affirmed. “Who’s on which team?”

Kenma sighed. _Guess I’ll have to hold on a little longer._

After deliberating for around ten minutes, teams were decided. Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Pidge’s soulmate Romelle banded together on one team. Since Lance and Pidge were the biggest Kodzuken fans, Kenma and Shouyou ended up with them. 

Kageyama insisted on being on the same team as Shouyou because puzzle solving needed to be added to their win/lose count (“We’re on the same team, Bakageyama!”). Kenma figured Yachi would join as well since she was the only one sans soulmate/date, but her gaze was affixed to Allura, the woman with the white hair. Kenma didn’t blame her. If he were interested in women, her blue topaz eyes would have entranced him, too.

Yamaguchi volunteered to be the last man on their team since Tsukishima refused to side with the “freak duo” ever again and Suga and Sawamura were already warming up to their new teammates. This left Hunk and Shay—sickly sweet soulmates with the kindest eyes Kenma had ever seen—Shiro, and Allura. Yachi gravitated to Allura’s side while Tsukishima stayed as far on the outer edge of the group as possible without getting called out for it. Suga and Sawamura were perfectly able to communicate with Shiro, at one point Suga offering to “show him around” before Daichi clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Ready teams?” Shiro prompted.

“Yeah!” most of them cheered in unison.

  


* * *

  


Despite Kenma’s team being overall the most competitive, it backfired in the form of bickering between two of their members. Kageyama and Shouyou could never agree on whether one of them had the correct solution to their task. Neither of them did, but they ignored any commentary from the rest of the team. Kenma ended up forced to work through half of the logic puzzles while Pidge worked on the other half. Keith and Lance were proficient in tasks involving speed and complicated maneuvering, and Romelle was content with cheering her soulmate on. In the end, having three members out of commission meant they escaped five minutes behind the other team.

“I _told_ you not to do that, idiot,” Kageyama growled at Shouyou as they exited the room. “The solution was obviously right in front of you and you still couldn’t see it.”

“Shut up, Bakageyama,” Shouyou retorted.

“You shut up.”

“No you.”

Keith stifled a laugh. “Kinda reminds me of us, huh Lance?”

Lance nudged Keith’s shoulder, but he kissed his shoulder in affirmation.

So Kenma wasn’t the only one who noticed Kageyama and Shouyou’s flushed cheeks, their closeness, and their willingness to congratulate each other on the rare occasion they managed to solve a puzzle together. Maybe it was their platonic bond or maybe there were bonds beyond the universe’s dictations.

Either way, both sets of friends said their goodbyes. Lance and Pidge asked for a commemorative picture with both teams and thanked Kenma profusely for his content again. Only Allura remained for a moment after the rest of her cohort exited the building, instead vying for speaking to Yachi in hushed tones. Phones were exchanged, eyelashes were batted, and hair was twirled. It was then Kenma caught Allura’s soulmark.

Before she could get too far out the door, Kenma tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey,” he said, “can I ask you a question?”

She nodded.

“Your soulmark is platonic, right?”

She looked down at her wrist as if she’d forgotten she had a mark in the first place. “Oh, right. Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Mine, too.” He held up his right wrist. “Have you met them?”

“I’ve been in contact with him, yes, but we don’t meet more than a few times a year. We both attended a seminar for business owners and he happened to be there.”

“And,” Kenma hesitated. Why was this so hard? “do you...happen to have feelings for him?”

She shook her head and smiled fondly. “No, but I don’t particularly want to find my forever person in the first place. I like my life the way it is now. I’m content with becoming an old cat lady who spends her money spoiling her friends over her spouse or children.”

“Oh.”

Of course she didn’t love him. He was her platonic soulmate. It would never work.

“You love your soulmate, don’t you?” she asked. Her tone was cautious, but unwavering. He couldn’t pretend around someone like her and maybe he didn’t have to.

“I do,” he admitted out loud for the first time to someone other than himself.

“I won’t ask what’s stopping you, but,” she gestured to where Keith and Lance stood, fingers interlaced and foreheads nearly touching, “those two were convinced they weren’t soulmates, and technically they weren’t, but they chose each other anyway. The universe brought them together as two halves of different wholes, but they chose to define their relationship on their own terms. I think if they hadn’t, their bond wouldn’t be nearly as strong as it is now.”

Kenma nodded solemnly.

“Does that help any?” Kenma couldn’t find a proper response and she laughed like a wind chime swaying in the spring breeze. “I’ll take that as a, ‘I’ll find my answer someday, but not now,’ then.”

Shouyou and his friends returned to the alleyway just as Allura and her friends disappeared around a corner.

“Did you want to go eat with us?” Yachi asked. “Shouyou told us it’s your birthday, so we’d be more than willing to treat you.”

Kenma didn’t have time to consider before Shouyou jumped in. “You _have_ to come. There’s this izakaya down the street with the _best_ karaage.”

The image of Kuro in his glasses and typing up a research paper popped into his head. He couldn’t interrupt.

“Yeah, I’ll go.”

  


* * *

  


After a couple rounds of drinks at the izakaya and a few more in a compact room of a karaoke bar, Shouyou and friends were in various states of drunkenness. Shouyou and Kageyama bet each other 5000 yen they could beat the other in a race to the station. With barely a wave goodbye, Shouyou darted ahead, leaving Kageyama to catch up while yelling, “You cheated!”

Yamaguchi stumbled a bit, but it was mostly because he could barely see in front of himself with his nose nuzzled in the crook of Tsukishima’s neck. Kenma perceived him as the type of person to shrug off any public displays of affection, but he was surprised when Tsukishima snuck a kiss when he thought there weren’t any onlookers.

Suga and Sawamura offered Yachi a ride home and she took it gratefully. “What about you, Kenma?”

“No, I’m fine. Station isn’t too far anyway.”

He walked the city streets alone amongst the late-night workers grabbing convenience store dinners and young couples window shopping. The night air penetrated Kenma’s jacket. He suddenly wished he’d grabbed one of Kuroo’s instead.

When Kenma returned home, he beelined for the fridge to put away the leftovers. He stumbled a bit without the apartment lights as a guide. Even the light which usually seeped out from the crack beneath Kuroo’s door was extinguished. The only light source he could guide himself by filtered through their tiny kitchen window. A solitary streetlamp peered into their little lives, highlighting a lone plate on the counter.

On the plate were three glazed apple turnovers preserved in plastic wrap. It crinkled as he removed one of the turnovers. He bit into it slowly and savored the best bite of cinnamon, sugar, apples, and pastry in the entire Kanto region. No other shop could compete with Apple Pi.

Alongside the treats lay a note. A doodle of a black cat and an irritating smirk accompanied Kuroo’s messy scrawl. He called it Kuroo Neko. Kenma called it stupid.

  
_Happy birthday, nya~_

Kenma smiled fondly and finished his way through all three pastries while he folded and unfolded a corner of the paper. 

_Maybe I should have been there,_ he thought fleetingly before chasing his negativity away. He didn’t ask Kuroo to wait for three hours just to get into the store. He didn’t force Kuroo to surprise him with a gift considered an extravagance in comparison with Kuroo’s paychecks. 

Kenma repeated these sentiments all through cleaning up and until he retired to his room for the night.

His computer clock read 03:18 before he changed into sleepwear. Before flopping into bed, he removed his wristband for the first time all day. Written beneath the covering Kuroo had unknowingly ingrained another note into his skin.

Most years, Kuroo’s post-birthday message would be something like, “Another year older and still just as much of a pain in the ass as ever,” or, “Here’s to another year with my best friend.” This time, the message was much more direct, the positivity and eagerness no longer masking the underlying meaning.

_We’re not partners._

Kenma placed his wrist soulmark down and closed his eyes. 

Another year. Another reminder.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, happy birthday to both _MMP’s_ Kenma and the real Kenma! I wanted to get this posted today because I thought it would be appropriate to considering the subject matter. Also, for all y'all OG _Echo My Heart_ fans ([AKA the original universe for this fic!!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644142/chapters/36332820)), that appearance was just for you.
> 
> Second off, it took me forever to get this chapter out. Why? Well, my house was under construction for three months because we’re going to sell it soon, I moved to a new placed and then four days later had to move back home because of a toxic family member, school has become a complete mess and my program is chaotic, and I’m just generally too exhausted to put words into my Google Doc.
> 
> I think the old me would apologize, but these things were relatively out of my control, so instead I’ll thank you guys for enjoying my work so far and keeping me motivated even though sometimes I really just don’t want to get this stuff out into the world.
> 
> Thank you so much to [HowTealightful](https://twitter.com/HowTealightful) for the cute yet heartbreaking art at the end of this chapter!
> 
> There’s some fluff coming up soon, so please forgive me for the angst!
> 
>  **Twitter:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://twitter.com/TeddyKrueger__)  
>  **Tumblr:**[ @TeddyKrueger](https://teddykrueger.tumblr.com)  
>  **Curious Cat:** [@TeddyKrueger__](https://curiouscat.me/TeddyKrueger__)


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